


Dream Brother I thru III (4/7)

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-04-15
Updated: 2001-04-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 52,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11335350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Sent to investigate mysterious hauntings in the painted wilds of Utah, the X-files team stumbles upon more than they bargained for, including the indomitable Alex Krycek.





	Dream Brother I thru III (4/7)

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Dream Brother by Tabby

Nightshade, aka Donna North, parked her car just north of the Garden Mall. Her hair was dyed red and done in a very curly style; she worn brown contacts, a tight miniskirt and sweater showing off her very fit figure. She wore brown contacts, sunglasses, a tight miniskirt and sweater showing off her very fit figure. She walked to a nightclub called Decadence and sat down at the bar. Ordering a virgin strawberry Margarita, she sipped it and scanned the bar. There...there he was. She recognized him from the still shots and video clips she'd viewed. She knew he liked redheads. Donna removed her sunglasses and fixed him with her large brown eyes. He started, as if having seen a ghost, then seemed to recover himself, and approached her. "What are you drinking, pretty lady?"

"Virgin Margarita," she murmured seductively, striking a pose that showed off her firm breasts, flat abs and toned legs. "Bartender, get the lady another virgin Margarita, and get me a rum and Coke, heavy on the rum, please!" The drinks were brought. 

"What's your name, pretty lady?"

"Donna," she said in her deepest inflection. "And what's yours?"

"John."

"John, could you do me a favor and drop some money in the jukebox? I'd like to hear anything by Cyndi Lauper, the Police and/or the Pretenders."

"Sure!" he said, happy to oblige. As soon as he and the bartender had turned their backs, Nightshade dropped a tablet into "John's" drink and stirred it furiously with the swizzle stick. It fizzed a little and then it dissolved.

John came back from the jukebox and got his hand around his drink. He gulped it. "Now that's what I call a dri--" and he collapsed, blue and choking, onto the barroom floor. Nightshade was long gone, melting into the crowds in the Garden Mall. She tied a scarf hastily around her head, hiding her bright hair, and switched her sunglasses for mirrored ones. She made it to her car unrecognized, of course. Glancing around her and checking rear and side view mirrors, she headed South. Well, that was the great Osprey there in that bar, dead horribly of cyanide poisoning. He'd been pitifully easy to dispatch. She still had Amanita to dispose of, though. She could be tougher. However, since Amanita was a Lesbian, Nightshade pretty much knew what she'd do. As she turned onto Highway 1 going south, she thought, I've got it made in the shade. I'll meet with the Old Man now and give him the good news about Osprey. Maybe I'll even get a chance to meet his lover, the legendary Ratboy. It was said that he was the most dangerous spy in history; that he was so handsome and charismatic that men and women fell in love with him at fifty paces. It should be interesting, she thought.

It was 3:00 when she knocked on the door, which was opened by an obviously heavily-armed muscle man. "I'm here to see Mr. Spender," she said. "Tell him Nightshade." The muscle man called something over his shoulder and she was led into the livingroom, where the Old Man was seated on the couch and between his legs on the floor, back to the couch, was a tall slim young man with broad shoulders and black hair, wearing a green leather outfit. The Old Man was engaged in brushing the young man's hair. So this is Ratboy, she thought. He doesn't look so special, and he's even missing an arm, like they said. Then he looked up at her, turning the full battery of his emerald eyes, fringed round with long black lashes, and his exquisite light-built face on her. She gasped and stepped back, as though she had been struck a physical blow. Surely here was the most handsome man she'd ever seen.

"Barbara, sit please. This is Alex Krycek. Alex, this is Barbara Donaldson, aka Nightshade."

"I've heard a lot about you," they each said, and laughed. She noticed the spectacular huge emerald at his throat, the large one in his ear, the emerald-studded bangle, watch and ring. This was indeed a kept man, and he was kept very well.

He noticed that she was a very pretty woman, with a face something like the actress Sharon Stone's; someone he would've been interested in, had he liked girls.

"So, Barbara, tell us of your news," he said, running the bristle brush through Krycek's thick, soft hair. "Turn to the left, Alex. That's it."

"I disposed of Osprey," she said, with brutal swiftness. "Cyanide in a drink."

The Old Man looked at her. "Anyone ID you?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Well, that's good, then. Now turn right a little, Alex."

"Have you tried the Wiccan names?"

"Yes, but no success; I don't know why."

"Possibly because you're not a Wiccan? I just don't know her secret," he mused. "Continue to work on it, please. As for Amanita, have you got anything planned for her?"

"Yes, I have. I'm setting a trap for her. She likes blondes, so I will go as a blonde. She will come to me, and then she will be at my mercy."

"And you have no mercy at all, Barbara."

"No, I haven't. None at all," she said, shaking her head.

"There's a tangle here, Alex. Don't move. Take her out, Barbara. Now tell me of the Consortium."

She sighed. "Today they boarded a plane bound for San Jose. I would arm myself, sir. Get more guards. They are not happy with you and they are headed straight for you."

"Why are they unhappy with me?"

"They believe you betrayed them by withholding information and skipping out on them, sir. They are also most unhappy about your relationship with Alex there."

"I don't see that it is any of their business."

"Nor I, but they resent it. They resent the fact that it diverts attention from the matters at hand. And, for some reason," she said softly, "they seem to resent the fact that you are happy in the relationship."

The CSM shook his head. "This is beyond the pale! I'm not happy about this at all! Do you really think they're coming to do serious damage to me, to us?"

Nightshade nodded. "Yes, I do. They'll target Mr. Krycek first. You'd better lock him up safely somewhere."

Krycek looked at her scornfully. "I can take care of myself! I am the Ratboy, who gives no quarter!"

She looked at him. "I'm aware of your savagery when provoked. I'll leave it up to you guys to deal with things. I'm just the reporter."

Nightshade got up to leave. "I'll be talking to you soon," she said to the Old Man. "Yes," he said. When she'd gone he said suddenly, "Alex, suck me! Right here!" Krycek looked around at the guards, who were looking at them, and Bill Runningwater, who was banging pots and pans around, shrugged, and unzipped the Old Man, reaching through the slit in his boxers to take out his fully engorged cock. He worked his mouth around it, tonguing the tip, licking up and down the sides, sucking it from the root to the tip. The Old Man moaned, threaded his fingers through Krycek's soft hair, held his head. "Alex, oh Alex. You're the best, the best." Krycek continued to lick and suck his cock and balls, pushing two fingers up inside him, and it wasn't long before he came in an earth-shattering scream, bucking spasmodically and shooting hot fluid down Krycek's throat.

"Come up here in my lap, Alex. I see that you have a sizeable erection." He stroked Krycek through his leather jeans, grabbed his butt and stroked that. Krycek groaned. In spite of himself, he was incredibly turned on. "What would you like me to do for you, Alex? Would you like to fuck me?" He nodded. The Old Man pulled his pants down the rest of the way and lay on his side on the Persian carpet. Krycek followed suit, lying in back of the older man and hugging him around the waist as he entered him, cautiously, with no lube. The Old Man moaned and Krycek began to thrust his full length into him and then to slam into him; he was so aroused he could do nothing else. The older man gasped and groaned. Krycek touched him and yes, he was hard again, so he pumped his cock in time to the fucking he was giving to him. They came at the same time; Krycek came so hard he thought he would die of pleasure.

They lay connected for a moment and then Krycek rolled over on his back. From this vantage point, he could see the guards sitting on the couch facing them. He looked at them, and began to laugh. "Did you guys learn anything instructive?" he asked. Bruno's eyes were shining. I've gotta have this guy, he thought. He's the sexiest man I've ever seen.

*************************************************

Once they'd gotten Mulder's new things into the house and installed the umbrella, Scully took him aside. "Mulder, in case you do decide to start dating, David and I will give you some tips. No," she said, waving her arms. "What I meant to say is that, you are a beautiful man, inside and out, brilliant mind, great bod, the works. Plus, you're a kind and good person. I hate to see all that wasted."

"Wasted? Wasted? I'll get him back," he said, chewing a sunflower seed.

"It probably won't be for a while, Mulder. I'm having a terrible time expressing myself here. Mulder, he had a relationship with that man before you did, and he's been kept by him off and on for years. By now, he's probably been showered with lavish gifts, treated like a prince. Mulder," she said, looking at him steadily, "please give up. At least for the time being, OK?"

Mulder shook his head stubbornly. "I won't. He loves me. That's what counts. Sharon said we'd be together eventually."

"Well, OK, that's eventually, that's not now. And by the way, how are you feeling about Sharon?"

He shrugged. "She's OK. I don't hate her or anything. She may be right, about the karma thing. Then there's the other thing, the angle she didn't get."

"And what's that?"

He popped a sunflower seed in his mouth. "He may like it there."

*************************************************

Nightshade had prepared for this encounter for hours. She'd stripped the red color from her hair and bleached it blonde, and had stuck turquoise contacts in her eyes. Finally, she'd used theatrical goop to alter her features. She "changed" her teeth, stuffed her bra, worn panties to round her rear, slid a ring "in" her nose, used a suction device on her lips to make them temporarily big, stuck a "mole" on her face, worn a long skirt with high-heeled platform boots to create the illusion of higher stature, and carefully applied heavy makeup, especially eye shadow, liner, mascara, lip liner, changing the shape of her lips, and lipstick. There. Amanita would never recognize her.

She drove to a gay bar, the Illusion (apropos, she thought) and entered the noisy club. There were mostly women, some men. She picked out the slutty Amanita, being propositioned by a bull dyke. Nightshade purchased a virgin Daiquiri and made her way through the crowd to a point at which she was facing her quarry, yet not quite in the bull dyke's face. Amanita turned to her, not recognizing her but obviously glad to have someone glamorous to talk to. "You're beautiful!" She blurted out. "What's your name?" "Shelly," she was told.

"Mine's Linda. Want to dance?"

"Sure," said Nightshade. They stepped out onto the dance floor. A second-rate band blared nearby. She began to dance with the grace of one who has studied ballet for years. She could sense Amanita looking at her admiringly. She whirled and dipped and ground her hips in time to the music, and Amanita did her best to keep up.

"Wow, you're quite a dancer!" said the slutty Amanita, sizing her up. She's looking at fake boobies and fake booty, thought Nightshade.

"Thank you!" she said, smoothly. Amanita came in close to her, and Nightshade could smell she'd been drinking. So that explained the teenagerish stuff. She, Nightshade, never drank.

"Could I get you a drink?" Amanita/Linda asked.

"No, thank you. I had a Daiquiri a minute ago," she said.

"Want to come home with me? I have a nice place not far from the Wharf."

"Really? That sounds great!" A house, she thought. The better to do in the slutty Amanita --sounds like that travel far in apartment buildings.

"Here, I'll give you directions," Linda/Amanita said, and wrote them on a slip of paper she'd dug out of her purse.

"Thank you," said Nightshade. "We'll go in separate cars, OK?"

"That's fine!"

They arrived at the place at the same time. It was a big old Victorian, of the sort that Nightshade liked. L/A fitted the key to the lock and they were in. "Why don't I go make us some drinks, and you can just make yourself comfortable in the livingroom."

"OK." Nightshade half-lay on the couch, propped up by an arm. She crossed her legs so that the slit in her brown suede skirt lay upon her thigh, and her "cleavage," created by the falsies, was exposed.

"Here we are!" said Amanita. "Margaritas!'

"Oh, goody, I love Margaritas!" said Nightshade, and pretended to sip hers. Amanita downed hers in two gulps and began to shed her clothes. Nightshade watched as the sweatshirt, the jeans came off (no bra, no underwear, of course -- it wasn't PC to wear them). The slutty Amanita had rather a good body, fairly fit -- but it wouldn't be if she drank like that for very long. Of course, Nightshade mused, it would never get that far. L/A approached her. "Don't you want to get comfortable, take off your clothes?" she asked hopefully.

"C'mere," said Nightshade. "Sit in my lap, like so," she instructed. When Amanita twisted to the left for a kiss, Nightshade twisted to the right, brought a dagger out of her waistband. "Do you know me?" she hissed. Amanita's eyes widened. "Nigh--" her vocalization was cut off as the dagger was shoved home through the solar plexus into her heart, stopping it. She wiped it off on her skirt. 

It was a Krycekian kill, at least the way he used to do it. The way he'd looked today, in that fairy getup, lashes fluttering, she doubted he could kill a butterfly.

Nightshade, standing in the kitchen, made a call from her cell phone. "Yes, Mr. Spender, please. He's what? Indisposed? Look, if he's fucking that boychik--Oh. Well, wake him up!...Yes, hi, it's Nightshade, sorry to bother you. Wanted to tell you that Amanita's been taken care of. Yes. Yes. Thank you!"

She punched the "no" button on her tiny phone to turn it off, and stuck the phone in her purse. There was still something left for her to do: she had to oppose the Consortium. I'll kill every one of them if they get in my way, she thought.

*************************************************

After landing in the San Jose International Airport, the group was tired, and cranky, and stiff, even though they'd flown first class. They decided to drive, because they'd need the cars, to their motel in Santa Cruz. They got to sample the thrills of Highway 17 and decided they wouldn't be driving back. They found the motel reasonably nice, not fancy, no room service, so they'd have to drive to restaurants, but that was OK. Santa Cruz had the reputation for being the Restaurant Capital of California, after, of course, San Francisco.

It was 3:00. They found a seafood restaurant with a private back room and convened a meeting.

The First Elder spoke: "We now have to come to a decision about the methods we use. Are we going to rely on our operatives? We haven't had reports from either one of them for a day or two. Has something happened to them, or are they merely lazy? If it turns out that we cannot rely on them, we have to deploy others."

"Not this again!" an irritated person on the other end of the table said, spearing his shrimp. "First it was Alex Krycek killing off our spies. Now it's someone else. Like Nightshade, maybe? She's Spender's current darling."

"Yes, now that he's got Krycek up in his little love nest, shtupping the hell out of him. Krycek won't be doing any more killing for a while." (this from another disgruntled member, mopping his lips discreetly with his napkin.)

"In the short run, we have to target Nightshade," said The First Elder, cracking open a crab leg. "Send Osprey or Amanita, or both, after her. Or if they're not available, we will have to hire others. In the long run, we have to target Spender. We won't terminate him, but we will bring pressure to bear upon him, as we've discussed. We need to know what he knows! There is always the chance that he has confided in Krycek. We ought not to dismiss him. Very recently, of course, he killed three operatives, one in an extremely brutal fashion. He is very vicious if provoked."

"My God, man! Why all this subterfuge? Spender is one of ours. Why can't we just ASK him what we need to know, for Christ's sake?" the Well-Manicured Man asked in exasperation.

There was absolute silence for a moment, and then everyone began talking at once, and the decibel level of the room rose to a painful pitch. "Could we have order?" shouted The First Elder, banging on the table. "Order, please!" Finally the talking began to abate.

"Let's have a vote," he began, "on these issues I and others have raised. First, who wants to target Nightshade and if necessary, terminate her?" Every hand went up. "OK, we have an aye vote on that. Second, we need a vote on approaching Spender." Most hands went up. "All right, we have an aye vote. Third, we need a vote on targeting Krycek. We don't need to terminate him, but we do need to talk to him. The room is split exactly down the middle. Let's take that vote again. Again, split down the middle. Are we afraid of Krycek, gentlemen? Rumor has it he was tortured and is now a victim of Stockholm Syndrome. He has lost his mind. He won't hurt you! Let us vote again." He sighed. Exactly half and half.

"I volunteer to contact Osprey and Amanita," said the WMM. "By the way, neither one of them is of the caliber of Krycek or Nightshade. But we try."

*************************************************

Sharon, performing one of her rituals, was visited by her infernal lover. "Rose of Sharon," he said caressingly, standing near her. "Your child is developing beautifully! You will see how gorgeous the child is, when he is born."

"Yes, and evil, like his father," Sharon said. "Get out of here!" He laughed and disappeared. She had not been bothered by him since. He no longer frightened her; he seemed like merely an annoyance. She began to realize, with 6 days left until D-Day, that she now had great power. In a dream the Virgin Mary came to Sharon and blessed her. "You now have the powers of a goddess, the powers of Heaven," Mary said to her. Sharon woke up knowing this was true. She no longer had to be afraid of anyone.

Every morning, noon and night she prayed to her pantheon of gods and goddesses, but mostly to her Mari, the Virgin Mary. "Mari, grant me and mine safe passage through the ceremony. If it is your will that I die, I shall be reunited with you. I am not afraid. Please, though, destroy this evil growing in me. I cannot!"

Sharon spent most of her time in her room. When she came out, everyone wanted to speak to her at once. She fielded questions and went in search of Mulder. "Mulder," she said gently, "are you still angry at me?"

He looked at her. "No," he said slowly, "I guess not. I don't understand why things have to be the way they are, but I guess they do."

"Good!" she exclaimed, and embraced him.

Mulder went to look for Scully. He found her banging the coals out of the Weber barbecue.

"Are we having steaks for dinner?" he asked hopefully.

"Sounds like someone's got an appetite!" she said. "That's great! Yes, it's steaks."

"Scully?"

"Mulder?"

"I've figured it out, about Alex. He's got Stockholm Syndrome. Think about it: torture, rape, abuse, isolation. Then, we don't know, but I can guess: he gets showered with gifts, affection, kindness."

Scully looked at him thoughtfully. "Yes, Mulder, that was my guess too, and I think you're right."

"In that case, he would come to love his captor, and not me anymore." He put his head down and a tear or two dripped onto his shirt.

"Oh, Mulder," Scully said, taking his hands in hers, "please don't invent these scenarios of the worst possible case of everything. It's not healthy. There's no need for your heart to be broken."

"I know. I can't help it," he said, beginning to weep quietly. Scully embraced him. "It's OK, Mulder, to cry. I'm glad you can cry; so many men can't. Just cry the hurts away, baby," She began to rock him back and forth, ever so slightly. "You let Mama Scully know how bad you feel. Cry, Mulder."

And cry he did, progressing from silent tears to wracking sobs that shook him and Scully. He buried his face in her shoulder and blubbered into her blouse. She smoothed his hair away from his face. "It's OK, Mulder, cry." He must have cried for half an hour. He finally raised his face from her shoulder. It was streaked with tears and snot, of course. She pulled a Kleenex from her pocket and mopped his face. "Go wash your face, darling," she said softly. He left and came back clean but with a red nose and eyes.

"Now I'm stubbed ub," he said. 

"Well, that happens when you cry. It's perfectly natural. Take a Sudafed."

"OK. Scully?"

"Yes, Mulder?"

"Will I ebber ged hib back?"

She smiled. "The Oracle, Sharon, has spoken, remember, and she assured you that you would get him back."

"Whad do you do for victibs of Stockholb Syndrobe?"

"Well, you have to decondition them. Like what was done to you in Utah."

"Thad was to bake be forged aboud hib," he said accusingly.

"It was really to save your life, Mulder. Now when we get Krycek back he'll need special intensive therapy, the object of which is to show him that he loves you and not the CSM."

"I'b goind do get thad therapy for hib."

"Good, Mulder. Very good." she said gravely.

"Will id work?" he asked.

She nodded her head. "They have almost a 100% success rate."

"Good," he said. "Scully, I wand hib back so bad."

"I know you do," she said.

*************************************************

While they discussed him, cried over him, the man in question was getting fucked on satin sheets, not caring about anything, just giving in to the pleasure of the moment. If he had lost his mind, become a victim of Stockholm Syndrome, he didn't care.

Afterwards he showered with the other man, toweled off and got dressed. He was going out for his daily hour, and he wanted to play with his horses. "Diablo," he called, and the Arab came loping up. "You're too fat, Diablo!" He said reprovingly. "We'll have to do something about that! I'm going to cut down on your oats." He mounted the stallion in one fluid motion and rode him around the field, then at the far fence. The horse took the fence neatly with room to spare. 

The guard watching him from the kitchen window was simply amazed by Krycek's riding prowess, the way he rode those horses, stallions even, without saddle, bridle or even halter, stuck on over fences. He was like a centaur, one with the horse.

Krycek raced down the hillside, the stallion like a black wind, mane and tail fanning out behind him. He got to Soquel Road, checking Diablo with leg pressure, and felt a pang of regret as he looked at the Starlite Market. Mulder. Their meeting there just a week ago, but seemingly ages behind him. 

Oh, Mulder. He was surprised to feel a tear trickling down his cheek. Maybe...maybe if he kept riding, he could get to Mulder's place before they'd discovered him gone here. Yes, it would look ridiculous to ride a horse down the middle of the suburban Santa Cruz streets, but if that's what it took...

Something snapped in Krycek's brain. He understood that he loved Mulder. He urged the horse forward along the edge of the road at a canter, then faster. Diablo was well-shod and the street did not bother him. They fairly flew along the road. Yes, they drew rubberneckers, but Krycek ignored them. He would get to his destination if it killed him. He took side roads and arrived at the Steamer's house within an hour and a half. He dismounted and knocked on the door. Mulder answered it. "Jesus H. Christ," he said slowly. "Alex, Alex! I thought I'd never see you again! Oh, Alex! You rode here," he said wonderingly. "Should I put the horse in the backyard?"

"Please. Just go around the house on the west side and through the gate you'll see. I'll unlock it."

With a handful of mane, Krycek led Diablo into the yard. "Look, Mommy, a horsie!" a little girl cried. Krycek smiled.

Mulder let him in by the back door and they embraced. Mulder nibbled along Krycek's neck and inhaled his scent.

"That's not your aftershave, Alex. You've been with him, that monster," he said, accusingly. He held Krycek at arm's length and looked at him. "And you're wearing all that fancy jewelry that isn't yours! Where's my ring, Alex? You're wearing his ring!

Krycek regarded him solemnly. A tear leaked from one beryl eye. "I have been with him," he said gravely. "The shower wouldn't completely remedy that. And it is his jewelry. I forgot to take it off."

"Alex, let me kiss you," Mulder said suddenly, and took him in a hard and deep kiss. "Can he kiss you like that?"

"No, not even!" Krycek said when they'd come up for air.

"Let's go up to my room!" Mulder said.

"Yes. Please!"

They walked up the steps, hand in hand, and headed for their room. Sharon Green stood in the hall, and she saw them, and she shook her head. "You can't cheat karma, Lexy," she said sadly.

They opened the door. "What'd she mean by that?" Krycek asked. 

"Ignore her," instructed Mulder. "She's just been getting weirder and weirder!"

Mulder flopped on the bed. "Do me from the front, Alex, and do me now!" He pulled off his jeans and shirt, took a pillow and doubled it under his hips. Alex saw that he was fully engorged and he felt his own erection growing. He pulled off his jeans, shorts and white silk poet's shirt. "That is awesome," breathed Krycek. "You're so fuckin' beautiful, Mulder! Oh, my God, your dick is so huge!" He knelt in front of Mulder, lubed his cock, placed the tip against the tight bud and shoved it home. Mulder gasped and moaned. Krycek took Mulder's enormous cock in hand and began stroking it in time to his pumping. They came at the same time, screaming and yelling themselves hoarse.

They lay a long time together, kissing, nuzzling and caressing. There came a knock at the door. "Who is it?" Mulder called.

"Scully. Are you all right in there? I heard screams, then silence."

"Yes, Scully, we're OK."

"'We're'? Have you got someone in there, Mulder?" Curiosity overcame her manners and she poked her head in the room. Yes, there were two naked men...

"ALEX!" she said. "Oh, my God, it's you! Oh, my God!"

"Yes," he said mildly, and pulled the comforter up.

"I'll let you two alone. Oh, my God!"

"Well, she'll tell White, all right," said Mulder.

"It's OK. I don't care who knows."

"There is one person..."

"But he doesn't know where I am, Mulder. I could have gone to the beach or something."

"He'll guess soon enough where you are."

"Yes, it's true."

"Should I tell everyone to arm themselves? I guess I could kill him, then all our troubles would be over."

"White and Scully will be on their toes, you can bet on it. And no, I don't think you'd better kill him."

"Why not?"

"You'd just not better, Mulder."

"Let's make love again. Want me to fuck you?"

"No, I've been with...remember?"

"Oh geez!" said Mulder. "Then suck me, Alex!"

"Gladly. Want to do it standing up?"

Krycek knelt in front of the standing Mulder and took him in his mouth, licking the tip of the cock head, down the sides of the shaft, sucked his balls one by one, licked back up and then swallowed Mulder's huge cock up to the base. Mulder gasped and moaned. Krycek employed great skill in sucking Mulder, using his mouth, throat and tongue simultaneously to stimulate Mulder maximally. Mulder couldn't hold out long under this treatment and he came in great shaking spasms, yelling his lover's name and spurting hot sticky liquid down Krycek's throat. They cuddled afterward.

"Why do you let him do it?" Mulder asked casually.

Something contracted inside Krycek. "Why do I let whom do what?" he asked.

"You know who I mean," said Mulder. "Why do you let him keep you, molest you, touch you, fuck you, kiss you, give you things?"

"It's complicated," said Krycek. "First off, Mulder, as you know, he could do anything he wants to me. He could kill me or have me put in the world's worst prison, forever. Secondly, and related to the first point, I am beholden to him for the many times he's gotten me out of serious scrapes. Thirdly, as you also know, he is a master manipulator and he's able to brainwash even me."

"Fourth, you love him?" asked Mulder.

Krycek turned and looked at him scornfully. "How could I love him? He is evil. He is cruel. He beats me, tortures me, abducts me, rapes me. Mulder, you're the only one I love. My one true love."

Mulder squeezed his hand and felt he would cry. They lay together hand in hand and then Scully knocked at the door, not poking her head inside this time. "Summit meeting, you guys! Right now, in the livingroom!"

They looked at each other, tumbled out of bed and got dressed. When they went down to the livingroom, they saw Scully and White, Sharon, and the Three Gunmen. The Gunmen's jaws dropped at the sight of Krycek. "Damn!" said Frohike, almost reverently.

"I've called you all together on such short notice," White began, "Because we've only got 3 days till D-Day and things are moving very quickly. But first, though, I'd like to welcome back Alex Krycek. Alex, I know your time with us is probably rather limited, so I'll try to move fast. I'd like you to speak first. Is there anything you'd like to tell us, from having spent time in the enemy's camp, so to speak?

Krycek cleared his throat. "I would like you to know that I was not quite myself. I was kept on heavy drugs when I was there and subjected to "Stockholm Syndrome" treatment. However, I was able to make some conclusions from observing Spender's chief operative, Nightshade. Her real name is Barbara Donaldson and she paid Sharon a visit as "Holly Lake." She was deployed to murder two Consortium operatives, Amanita and Osprey, and she did so. She has the "names of the Goddesses," which she got from the Ol-- from Spender, whom I believe got them from Sharon," and Sharon looked at him gravely, "and she will use these names somehow to attempt to wrest the upper hand from Sharon."

"I would also like to say that the gentleman just spoken of will probably be arriving here shortly to pick me up, and then I have to go with him. For those who don't know this, I have committed many murders, and he has hushed them all up for me. For this and other reasons, I am bound to him. I hate him, because he is evil, and because of his treatment of me and other people, but I can't leave him. Mulder, I'll arrange to have Diablo transported back to the estate. I plan still to participate in the Great Rite, if transportation can be arranged."

He looked around the room. Mulder, at his side, looked at him with naked fear. Scully, on the other side, squeezed his hand and smiled at him. White shook his head; the Lone Gunmen looked at their feet as if they had suddenly found something very interesting on their shoes. Sharon gave him a look of pure wonder and respect and love. "Alexei, the Goddess blesses thee," she said softly.

"OK," said White, breaking a silence, "now we'd like to hear from Sharon."

She pulled one leg up under her, rearranging her skirt. "Things look good from my end. I have yet to meet with my Wicca group and I'll do that tomorrow. My powers have grown enormously. There is very little I can't do, save stop this pregnancy. Only my death will end it. I am no longer tormented by Him, because he has lost the power to bother me. You are all invited to the ceremony on Wednesday evening. You may not all wish to go, as it will be very dangerous; but the invitation stands. Lexy and Mulder will perform the Great Rite. Lexy, you," she said, fixing him with her gaze, "will come with me on that evening. I will get you. Then I will send you back. No problems will accrue to you as the result of your absence. I will arrange things."

She fell silent, looking down at her hands, white and slim, in her lap. She looked at White. "That's all," she whispered.

White said, "Scully, report?"

"Well, there were two more murders occurring approximately the night of the Left Hand Path meeting, drownings with the characteristic welts I've spoken of before, spelling in Hebrew, 'for my love'. One of the victims was Sharon's ex-husband Jason, the other has not yet been identified. I want to say, Alex," she said looking at him, "your abduction and the days following constituted a major trauma for this house, and especially for Mulder, whom I placed on Ativan."

"Lone Gunmen?"

Byers spoke up. "We've got firm RSVP's for representatives of every major faith, Christian and not, as well as many minor ones. Santa Cruz is a liberal sort of place and it was not too difficult to track down holy men and women who are broad-minded enough to attend a Wiccan ceremony."

White said, "That is fantastic! You three, in your quiet way, have proven invaluable to our cause!" All three of them smiled. Langly forgot to chew on his sucker.

"Mulder?"

Mulder sat up. "As you all know, the abduction of Alex Krycek left me devastated, and I became ill. Dr. Scully has been treating me. Alex's appearance, of course, cheered me greatly, but I fear he will have to leave shortly and that will be a great trial for me. I will participate in the Great Rite with Alex."

"White?"

"I've been working with Scully in the matter of the Left Hand Path murders and with the police in, uh, other matters," he said, glancing at Krycek. Scully and I will participate in the Ceremony. Now let's all move out to the kitchen for snacks."

There came a loud knock at the door and Mulder turned completely white. They all looked at each other, then White went to answer it. A very tall man with broad shoulders, dressed in an elegant suit, stood in the doorway. Behind him stood five or six muscular men in slacks and shirts, every one with a weapon drawn. The tall man's gaze swept the room, alighting on Krycek for a moment. He shook out a cigarette from a pack of Morleys and lit it. "You've got something of mine," he said to White. "I'd like it back."

"He's not your property," said White tightly.

"Who are you to gainsay me?" laughed the tall man. "I have all the firepower here. These are Uzis these gentlemen are holding. Now give him back!"

"I won't," said White stubbornly, and suddenly his service pistol was in his hand.

"No, don't," said Krycek clearly. "I'll go." He turned to Mulder, hugged and kissed him. "Till next time, lisitsa!"

"We don't have time for this!" thundered the Smoking Man. "Alex, come here at once!"

Krycek walked over to the tall man, who kissed and caressed him in front of the stricken Mulder. "I'll kill you, you bastard! I'll cut your balls off and stuff 'em in your mouth!" said Mulder, approaching with his gun out. 

The Smoking Man jerked his head toward the goons, and they ran into the house, overpowering Mulder, White and Scully. "No!" cried Krycek. "Leave them alone! You have me -- isn't that enough?" The Old Man approached Mulder, who was now weaponless. Mulder was tall, but the Smoking Man was half a head taller or more. 

The man grasped him by the shoulders and shook him. "What did I tell you about taking your father's lover, Fox? He's mine!"

"You son of a bitch! You can't force someone to be your lover! It has to be voluntary! There's no slavery in this country!"

"Oh, isn't there?" the man laughed. "As for what I can do and can't do, all your experience with the X-Files should have taught you that I can and will do exactly what I want to do!"

"You are EVIL!" yelled Mulder.

"You are upset," said the tall man, exhaling smoke. "Dr. Scully, I recommend giving Fox a tranquilizer. Come, Alex," he said, and the goons let White and Scully up, sans guns. Krycek followed him outside, head hanging. They watched as a door to the Mercedes was opened, Krycek was handcuffed to the inside door handle and helped inside, the door closed and the car roared away.

Mulder cast himself on the ground, sobbing in a paroxysm of grief. Scully knelt by him, trying to comfort him.

*************************************************

The Old Man sat by Krycek on the way up to the estate, kissing him and touching his hand, his cheek, running his fingers through his soft hair. "I didn't know where you'd gone, Alex. I was so worried. We searched the hillside for you and couldn't find you. I thought you may have gone to Mulder's house, but wondered whether you'd have been able to ride a horse down city streets."

Krycek said, "OK, I need to know this: are you going to beat me?"

"Well, you broke three out of three of the rules, didn't you? You deserve a beating, but I just can't bring myself to do it. However, Alex, you won't get your freedom back right away. I'm going to be more cautious this time."

"I'm gonna be cuffed to the bed?"

"Yes, you will be, for a good long time. If it becomes too stressful, you know we have medications available."

"Oh." Now how was Sharon supposed to get him out of that?

They arrived at the house and drove into the garage. Spender took Krycek's hand and led him up the stairs, then into the master bedroom. For some reason at that instant Krycek sank down on the Oriental carpet in the prayer pose, not knowing who he was praying to. His lips unbidden formed the word, "Mari," and he closed his eyes. The Old Man's sharp brain realized that this was somehow significant to the mission. "To whom did you pray?" he asked Krycek casually, helping him up.

"Mari, whoever Mari is," said Krycek.

Ah. He would relay this information to Nightshade.

"Take off all your clothes and lie on the bed, Alex," the Old Man said casually. "Now. Face up. I want to see your beautiful face when I fuck you."

Most of the suit came off. "Here, Alex, put these pillows under your hips." He knelt between Alex's legs. "No lube, Alex. I want you to feel me," and he mounted him. 

Krycek gasped. It hurt, and kept on hurting. "It hurts!" he said.

"Does it? Good! Maybe you'll remember: I don't ever want you to run away from me again. Your rightful place is with me! You must relinquish your ties with Fox Mulder! Look in my eyes!"

He did as he was told. He wasn't feeling pain anymore; he must have finally widened enough. As usual, his body had betrayed him with a hard erection, which the Old Man played with until he came, groaning and straining and squirting all over the tall man's hand. Then the Old Man came, slamming into Krycek and yelling his name.

He buried his face in Krycek's chest. "That was really good, Alex," he said, looking up.

The Old Man went to the closet, pulled casual clothes out and dressed. "Alex, we're going to lock you up now," he said, and Bruno and Dane came into the room.

"Please don't!" said Krycek. "I'll be good. I won't escape!"

The Old Man shook his head. "We can't take that chance. Get dressed."

Krycek dressed and was directed to lie on his back. He was locked up spread-eagled. "Oh, please, no," he begged. "I get totally panicked!"

The Smoking man shook out a Morley and lit it, inhaling smoke. "You shouldn't have run away, Alex. Every action has its consequence." He left the room, signaling the two guards to do the same.

Krycek couldn't help it; he started to cry. In a little while, Bill Runningwater came in and went to him. "Oh, Alexei, I feel so badly for you! Why did you run away?"

"I wanted to be with Mulder!" he blubbered.

"Hasn't everyone said, you belong to the Old Man?" Bill asked patiently. "When that will change, no one knows."

"Can you please give me a drug?" asked Krycek.

"Yes, I brought one with me. It's alprazolam."

"That's Xanax, isn't it? Isn't that shit incredibly addictive?"

"Not for short-term use. Don't worry. I would never do anything to harm you. It will calm you and help you to cope." Runningwater swabbed Krycek's arm and injected him. In a few moments he began to feel calmer, and in another few he felt pretty high.

"Wow, this stuff is great!" Krycek said. He began to not care that he was cuffed so that he couldn't even wipe his nose, which needed wiping after the crying he'd done. Bill brought a Kleenex and swabbed his face.

"I'm gonna sit right over here on this chair and read a book out loud to you. It's called the Lord of the Rings. Have you read it?"

"No, I haven't."

"Well, fine, then it'll be new to you. If at any time, Alexei, you need to get up to go to the bathroom, let me know. I have a handcuff key. Later there'll be dinner, which you're invited to, but you'll have to wear leg restraints. The Old Man doesn't want to take any chances with you running away."

"Geez, they treat me like a wild animal."

"Alexei, you are a wild animal. Gorgeous, and at times vicious, and almost untameable."

"Mulder tamed me." 

"No, he didn't. There was the matter of three dead spies?"

"They were asking for it."

"I hate him and I don't want him touching me!"

"Yet he manages to squeeze orgasms out of you, doesn't he?"

"Bill. That's a purely mechanical thing. You stimulate someone enough, they come."

Runningwater sighed. "As I've told you before, he loves you to distraction. And I think that part of you loves him back."

Silence. Then, "Please read the book!"

*************************************************

Mulder was so hysterical that Scully sedated him, and walked him upstairs to his room. "Do you have some of your sunflower seeds with you, Mulder? You do? Good. Come downstairs when you feel like it, OK? Sharon will be having her meeting downstairs and you may wish to get in on it, seeing as how you're one of the major participants in this thing."

"Um-hum," he said. He got into bed and stared at the ceiling, contemplating the situation with Krycek. That damned Smoking Man just couldn't, he just couldn't do what he did to Alex! He loved Alex and Alex loved him; it was a free country; therefore, they should be together. He cracked and ate sunflower seeds, throwing the hulls on the nightstand. He didn't care that he was being a slob; he didn't much care about anything, but Alex. Whenever he thought of Alex imprisoned, locked up in a small space, maybe beaten and tortured, he was wracked by pain and fear and rage.

When it became apparent to him that he'd have to eat something, he made his way downstairs. In the living room and flowing over into the dining room, kitchen and down the hall, some seated, some standing, and all listening intently, were the participants in Sharon's meeting.

They looked up at his approach. "Here's one of the principals in the ritual I've just been explaining, the Great Rite," she said easily. "His name is Fox Mulder. Fox, meet the group!"

He smiled and nodded, a sunflower seed still in his mouth. "Have a seat!" Sharon said, and Mulder sat on a large pillow on the floor. "The Great Rite is generally performed between the High Priestess, that's me, and the High Priest -- and our group doesn't have a High Priest. Or, it can be performed by any couple the High Priestess designates; in this case, Mr. Mulder and my friend Lexy Krycek."

"Is your friend Ms. Krycek around to attend this meeting?" Mulder choked on his seed.

"No, unfortunately, HE is indisposed," she said gravely. There was low talk in the group.

"Alex and I are gay," said Mulder. Deal with it, he thought.

"Although the Great Rite is generally performed between members of the opposite sex, there's no hard and fast rule this has to be so; and Lexy and Mulder are an extraordinarily loving, caring, tender and passionate couple who will 'make good magic' and raise much power. Besides," she said, smiling, "this is Santa Cruz!" There was laughter.

*************************************************

The Consortium convened for drinks and hors d'oeuvres in the restaurant overlooking the ocean. The First Elder selected some little salted crackers with crabmeat and caviar. "As many of you know, we've received the disastrous news that Osprey and Amanita, our prized operatives, have been killed."

"By whom -- Krycek?" One of the men asked.

The Well-Manicured Man snorted. "Not from what I hear. It was the other, that Nightshade."

There was a silence. "I guess the question is, do we have any other operatives immediately available?" asked the small elderly man.

"The answer is, we can get them," said The First Elder, sipping on his drink, a rum and Campari. In fact, I have already arranged for two more to start immediately, a Dragonsblood and a Scimitar." He sighed. 

"We are losing all our spies to the opposition! This must stop!" exclaimed the Well-Manicured Man. "And the eve draws nigh! We have but three days to D-Day!"

The First Elder popped a caviar cracker in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. "We will target Nightshade with our operatives. We will get a volunteer to approach Spender. And we were at a stalemate over the Krycek thing. He has the goods, gentlemen. We just need to come to a decision to approach him, or to set another spy on him."

Silence. Then, "It is very simple," said the WMM wearily. "Krycek is living with Spender again. I will go, and I will offer Krycek something he wants."

"Such as?" another gentleman asked. "It is known that Spender buys him expensive gifts and allows him every indulgence."

The WMM steepled his fingers. "Something he doesn't have. His freedom."

*************************************************

They were just about through the first chapter of The Lord of the Rings when the Old Man showed up. He motioned Bill Runningwater outside the room and stood near the bed. "Alex," he breathed, "I want you more."

Krycek looked up at him. "I can't stop you," he said, looking up at the tall man, and was slapped. "Are you gonna hit me everytime I say something you don't like?" he asked calmly.

"Maybe," said the tall man, lighting a cigarette. "Just maybe."

"Well, fuck," said Krycek.

"A word I like. I never thought it worked as an obscenity, did you? A word describing a highly pleasurable act, an almost spiritual act, many think. Many, that is, who do not subscribe to the Judeo-Christian tradition of guilt and sin..." While he was talking he was unlocking Krycek's cuffs and helping him to a seated position. "Here, Alex, get up and stretch. Come back to this room in five minutes, remove your clothes and get into bed."

Krycek wandered into the other room. There were four guards now, he noticed; two he didn't know, but he said hi to Bruno and Dane. Bill Runningwater was cooking dinner. "What is it?" he asked him. "Oh, ribs," he said. Krycek nodded, looked out the window. 

"My Ferrari's still there. When will I get to drive it?"

Bill paused in his basting the ribs. "I'd say that was up to you, Alexei. The sooner you learn to behave, the sooner you can drive it."

Krycek rolled his eyes. "That'll probably be never, then."

"No, don't say that. I've seen you behave remarkably well today. Just keep it up."

"Are you on his side then?"

Runningwater looked at him. "We've had this discussion before. He and I are old friends. You and I are old friends. I don't take sides. I love you both. And, AND, Alexei, you've made a lot of choices in your life that first led you to him, then bonded you to him. He loves you. He hungers for you, he cares for you, and when you're not around he goes crazy."

"Alex!" the Old Man called, and Krycek grimaced. "His master's voice, arf arf arf," he said under his breath. He returned to the bedroom and stripped. "Where do you want me?" he asked.

"Bend over the bed, your face on this pillow," he was instructed. He knelt and bent over the bed. Pretty soon he felt hands stroking his hair, his neck, back and cupping and squeezing his ass. Then a slick finger was inserted, and then another, moving and widening him. Finally he was penetrated for real, thrust into at first very gently, then harder and harder. In this position it was easy for him to close his eyes and think of Mulder. Mulder...and his hardening cock got impossibly hard. A hand reached between his legs and grasped his cock, stroking it. "Mulder," he said out loud, not thinking. The Old Man laughed. "Mulder...is...not...here...in...this...bed!" he said, punctuating every word with a thrust that banged Krycek against the bed. He couldn't help it, he came all over the place. When his contractions squeezed down on the Old Man's cock that gentleman came inside Krycek with a yell. He collapsed on top of Krycek, kissing him fervently. Damn! Thought Krycek. The Old Man was incredibly virile for an old guy...even for a young guy! Wonder if he took Viagra?

"Alexei, we're gonna change the sheets here in a minute and take a shower. Bill! The sheets?" Krycek put a robe on and stood watching. Someone banged on the front door rather hard and Bruno went to answer it, weapon at the ready. "Mr. Spender, Sir, someone here to see you!"

The Old Man pulled on slacks and a sweater and went out to greet his caller. "Oh, it's you!" he said, half in surprise, half in resignation. "Come in! Let me take your coat."

"Thank you."

While the Well-Manicured Man was seated in the living room, Krycek had wandered out in his robe. The guards were in another room and the Old Man's back was turned. The WMM spotted him. When the Old Man left to do something in the garage, Krycek hid in the hallway then sidled out to meet the WMM.

"He's really got you under his thumb, hasn't he?" asked the WMM, sipping a drink. "Why do you say that?" Asked Krycek.

"Because you slink around scared to be seen.. And, Alex, we know you're locked up here and not allowed to go out. Now, listen, Alex."

"Mm-hmm?"

"We've got a deal for you."

"We?"

"The Consortium. You give us certain information, and we procure your freedom for you."

Krycek looked down. "How're you gonna do that?"

"Don't worry; we'll manage."

"What information do you need?" he asked, looking the WMM in the eyes.

The WMM mad a dismissive gesture. "Just the smallest of trifles. It concerns the girl, Sharon Green."

At this point the CSM put in an appearance. "You," he said, grabbing Krycek's jaw and hauling him up, "faithless bitch!" and he slapped him several times. The WMM stood up, his jaw slack. The CSM took Krycek by the wrist and pulled him into the bedroom, pushing him onto the bed. "On your stomach, Alex!" he said, and locked him into the cuffs. "Bill!" he called. "Another injection please!" Runningwater hurried in and injected Krycek with God knows what, but it made him sleepy almost immediately.

The Old Man left the room and returned quickly, carrying several objects. One of them was a leather collar with a chain attached which he buckled around Krycek's neck and attached to the foot of the bed. Another was the feared blacksnake whip. Krycek writhed and began yelling, "No! Please no!" The Old Man stood over the bed and laid the whip once on Krycek's back. He screamed.

"If you EVER do anything like that again, you'll get more than one of these, I can guarantee you that!" the Old Man said.

The WMM, standing in the doorway horrified, suddenly found his voice. "For GOD'S SAKE, MAN! You can't do that to him! No matter what he's done, and he hasn't done anything!"

"I can and I will!" the Old Man cried. "As for you, conducting espionage in my home? I don't appreciate it. Please leave before we make you leave!"

The WMM retrieved his coat and left, shaking his head.

*************************************************

"So you all have no problem with the fact that Alex and I are gay?" Mulder asked in surprise. They all shook their heads.

"These are modern times," observed a Catholic priest who had been giving Mulder the eye since he came downstairs. 

"And no one has any problem with the fact that this is a sexual ritual, and a Wiccan ceremony?" Sharon asked.

Again, much shaking of heads. "In our culture," said the Hindu, "we have a tradition of sex as spirituality, called Tantra. And your pantheon of gods and goddesses? Well, you borrowed many from us! I regard this as an honor of the highest order."

The turbaned Sikh nodded. "I, too, would make these observations. We have an ecstatic tradition, Kundalini Yoga, which I know you practice, Sharon; I also know that this practice and other yogas have been incorporated into your religion."

The Cherokee chief added, "our religion is a shamanic religion, very like yours. Again, I believe you used many of our concepts in your faith. We are flattered."

The Muslim said, "What you teach sounds foreign to our ears, yet many of the deeper beliefs echo Rumi's writings. He is one of our great mystics."

She nodded. The rabbi said, "We teach tolerance. We know your people were burned at different times in history, and we regard this as a terrible tragedy. We know, too, that you are one of ours, Rose of Sharon. The loveliest and most powerful mortal woman is Jewish, and we bow to you." He stood up and actually executed a bow.

The Catholic priest cleared his throat. "It is known that you've performed miracles and pray constantly to the Virgin Mary, and some have claimed already that you are a living saint. You are a Christian in another cloak."

She turned to the Lutheran minister. "And you? How are you with all this?" 

"All this stuff is very new and confusing to me. We of course teach that Christ is the savior, that Mary worship is pagan; but I am willing to attend this ceremony and do whatever I can to help save the world from the Blackness." Sharon smiled on him, and he was struck dumb, because he saw her surrounded by white light, and a voice from the heavens said, "she is Mine."

*************************************************

Mulder left the meeting at some point, feeling a little overwhelmed, got in his car and drove to Natural Bridges State Beach. The "bridges" were no longer, having eroded and fallen into the sea, but it was still a nice beach. He rolled up his jeans and waded in the ocean. Damn, he just hadn't had much of a chance to hang out at the beach, and here he was at night, dipping his toes in the freezing ocean, and this would be it. This whole affair would be over very shortly, he imagined, and then he would go home. Home, to his little apartment in D.C., and back to his routine, continuing to investigate x-files. He stood for a moment letting the waves swirl around his ankles. There would be no Alex Krycek in his future; how could there be, despite Scully's and Sharon's assurances? He was being held prisoner by the Fool on the Hill, the object of so many of their investigations, key to the alien conspiracy, sociopath, assassin, power-monger, web-spinner, nightmare-weaver, owner of wealth beyond imagining, one of the most evil and influential men in history. How could he get Alex back?

He shook his head and walked slowly up the beach on feet numb from the cold.

*************************************************

Nightshade quickly discovered that she was being tailed. It just took a few glances in her rear-view mirror. "These guys just never give up, do they?" she mumbled. She dodged down a side street, then another, and the tail kept up with her doggedly. Well, goddamn. She pulled her Ferrari over to the side of the road, pretending to park, and rolled down the driver's side window. The tail drove on by and circled back. Nightshade reached for her Ruger .38 and cocked it. When the car drove slowly abreast of her, she leaned out of the window and shot the driver point-blank in the face. She got out of her car and looked: a young black man in his twenties. Yes, that was Dragonsblood. Too bad, guy. A few seconds ago you worked for the Consortium. Your brains are now splattered all over the car.

She sighed and drove on. Doors were opening as curious folk took a look at the "accident."

Now she just had that bitch, Scimitar, to take care of. She'd seen her pictures. Persian, and a raving beauty. All the more reason to kill her. While she was driving "home" her cell phone rang. "Yes?" she answered. "Oh, hi, boss. Yeah, just got rid of Dragonsblood. He was bothering me....No, no one saw me. Shot. Does this make me like Alex Krycek?... Oh, really? Uh-huh. Mari? Like Mary, Virgin Mary? Yeah. Great! Scimitar hangs out in the library, bookstores. She reads....Sheesh, Boss. Yeah, thanks! Bye."

She pocketed the cell phone and drove on. She would probably have to attack Scimitar in her car or her home, unless she could locate her at about 10 pm in the campus library, which was multi-storied and which could be a lonely place at night. Shot with a silenced gun. Stabbed with her stiletto in the heart. The ambush, her throat cut. Garroted. There were all kinds of attractive possibilities. Nightshade smiled. She was a blue-eyed blonde today. Tomorrow night, as she tailed Scimitar to the library, she would be a brown-haired, brown-eyed man of middle years, her small breasts bound, wearing a concealing dark jacket over jeans, brown loafers. That would be the last, the end of the spies. The Consortium would have no time to hire someone new before D-Day. Now that she had the name of the goddess who gave Rose of Sharon her power, she would invoke her and get all the power for her boss...or just for her, perhaps. A delicious thought, that last. Why, she would be a god, able to direct others to her bidding...perhaps to their death. It was fun to kill a few spies; how much more fun to kill lots of innocent people, hmm?

They didn't call her the Deadly Nightshade for nothing.

*************************************************

Krycek lay immobilized and alone for a while, trying hard not to cry. Only fairies cry, he told himself fiercely. A gentle hand touched his back and he started; it was Bill Runningwater.

"Just checking where he whipped you," Bill said. "Doesn't look too bad. It just left a mark, Alex; the skin didn't split open. Alexei, do you need to pee?"

"Yes, and a drink of water," said Krycek thickly. The Navajo unlocked and unbuckled him and helped him up to a seated position. "Ow, my neck," Krycek said, rubbing it. "Why'd he put me in that neck thing anyway?"

"I imagine he wanted you completely immobilized."

"Well, it's a rotten thing to do!"

"It's actually safer for you that way...anyway, are you gonna pee?"

"Yeah." Krycek said, concentrating on balancing on the bed. He was dizzy. When he stood up, it was worse. 

"Here, let me help you." He leaned on Runningwater on the way to the bathroom. When he came out, the CSM was standing in the room, smoking. 

"Would you like some dinner and wine?" he asked pleasantly.

"Oh, OK," said Krycek. "Especially the wine part!"

The CSM laughed. "Bill will help you get dressed."

Krycek selected his green silk poet's shirt, his most flattering, with black jeans, and donned his emeralds, slipping his feet into green suede loafers. Approaching the dinner table, the Old Man caught him and looked him up and down. "It ought to be a crime," he said, "for a man to be as beautiful as you are."

They had Indian food which was catered in, and Krycek had Tandoori chicken, baked eggplant curry, saffron rice, Marsala tea, pakoras and samosas, onion kulchas bread and glass after glass of a good Chardonnay. Of course, after three glasses, it could have been antifreeze he was drinking; he was pretty loaded. He laughed hard at all the jokes and wondered why he had never noticed that the Old Man was a very erudite person who quoted frequently from Shakespeare, the Bible and other great works.

When he rose from the table, the CSM said, "Bill, get him ready for bed, will you?" Runningwater pointed Krycek in the direction of the bathroom. "Shower," he said. "Do you want me to help you?"

"Please," said Krycek.

Bill got him under the water and soaped him from head to toe, and rinsed him off. "It's been a long day, Alexei, and you've had many adventures, not all of them fun. At least you'll have a pleasant evening." He helped Krycek dry off, put a robe on him and took him into the bedroom. "Here," he said, unclipping the handcuffs and chains. "Toss these under the bed."

Krycek shed the robe and got under the comforter; it was a cool evening. He could feel himself becoming comfortably sleepy, and he closed his eyes and began to drift off. He felt a weight on the bed, then a man climbing in next to him, also nude, skin to skin. They embraced and Krycek put his head on the man's chest. Mulder, he thought, hopefully, knowing with one part of his brain who it really was. The man changed position so that his front was to Krycek's back. Mulder? He kissed Krycek and nibbled down his neck. "Oh, Alex," he said, and the spell was broken. That was NOT Mulder's voice. It's that fucking Old Man, he thought bitterly, back for some more. Couldn't the man give it a rest?

Indeed, he had a hard-on and Krycek was sure he'd do something with it. Touching himself experimentally, he was dismayed to discover he had one too. Great. Throughout every encounter he'd ever had with this man, no matter how drunk, how drugged, how tired, how sleepy, how angry or how full of hate he'd been he'd always gotten an erection and he'd always come. He was sure that tonight would be no exception. For some reason, he was able though, for the first time, to step outside himself and look objectively at what he was doing, and this was an extraordinary experience. It turned an emotionally draining, even tragic, encounter into a funny one.

"Alex, what is your pleasure?" the CSM asked. Gee, that was hard. "What's yours?" Krycek murmured seductively. "You can suck me off in the shower tomorrow," the man kindly remarked, lubing himself. "For tonight, I want this," and he slid himself in. Krycek gasped. His butt was Really Sore. The Old Man reached around and slid his hand up and down on Krycek's cock, and dammit, that felt really good, no matter who was doing it. This was going to be Orgasm # 45,201, or something, he thought. It was time to trot out one of his tricks, if one could use the epression, to keep the Old Man happy: he shoved his hips upward and backward to meet the guy's forward thrusts, while clamping down really hard.

The Old Man gasped and moaned. Good, good. The faster he could get him to come, the sooner he could stop this Big Pain in the Butt. He was sure that past a certain point he wasn't going to care who was in bed with him, or what that person was doing, because he was swept up in it, but for now, he had his mind.

More backwards thrusts and more clamping, more moans, good, good. Krycek noticed that he had begun to feel pretty good and knew he was rapidly approaching the point of no return. No, no! "Ah..I'm coming," he said, and spurted all over the Old Man's hand, his belly and the bed in a paroxysm of pleasure. The Old Man wasn't far behind him, grabbing Krycek around the waist, pounding him and yelling his orgasm.

The CSM kissed Krycek and thanked him, and promptly fell asleep, snoring loudly, a typical smoker. Krycek, with a wild look in his eye, got out of bed and put on a robe and slippers. Padding silently through the house, he first located the guards: all four of them in the back bedroom and all of them asleep! Then he located the living room phone. With trembling hands, he punched a number in. After three rings (and he was despairing), a sleepy voice answered. 

"Mulder."

"Mulder!" he whispered frantically. "It's Alex! Alex!"

"Alex?" Mulder asked doubtfully. "Alex Krycek?"

"Yes! Yes! Which other Alex would it be?!"

"Well, Alex, you're whispering and I can hardly hear you."

"OK, I'll take it into one of the front rooms." Krycek took the phone into one of the front bathrooms, closed the door and turned the fan on. "Now can you hear me?" he asked, speaking low.

"Yes, I can hear you! My Alex! My love! Where are you? Still in Smoky's castle?"

"Yes, and he's got me prisoner still...oh Mulder, he bangs me like six times a day, chains me to the bed, hits me, the works. I spoke to the Well-Manicured Man this evening."

"You know, I'm gonna kill him," said Mulder. "I'm gonna kill the bastard, I'm gonna kill him."

"Mulder, he is your father."

"If that sociopath is my father, then I don't want a father."

"Mulder. Anyway, I tried to talk to the Well-Manicured Man; he was here."

"What'd he want?"

"He wanted me to sell secrets, in exchange for my freedom."

"Did you?"

"Obviously not. I'm still here. Anyway, the CSM found me there...he hit me, slapped my face pretty hard, chained and cuffed me to the bed...I couldn't move at all...then he seemed to have a change of heart. I got to come out to a gourmet dinner and wine. Then...never mind."

"What never mind?"

"Never mind."

"Never mind he screwed you? I'll kill him."

"Mulder, that's why I'm here, that's the whole point. Think I could just sit around and look pretty? I have to deliver!"

Incoherent mumbles. "I'm gonna come up there right now, Alex, and get you. I don't want to hear another word."

"Mulder, Christ, they've got four armed guards here! Ground radar! A small arsenal! Even the Old Man is always armed, you know that."

"Can't you escape, Alex? Take one of your horses! I'll meet you halfway!"

"Mulder, I just DID escape yesterday, and look where it got me! He and his goons came in like gangbusters and took me back! Mulder, all your years in the X-Files, all your years of playing cat-and-mouse with him, and you don't know what he's like?"

The bathroom door opened and Krycek's heart leaped right up into his throat. "Ah.." he said. It was only Bill Runningwater, with a funny look, a mixture of disapproval and amusement, on his face. "Mulder, I've just been busted by Bill Runningwater."

"Put him on," said Mulder. "Hi, Bill! Remember the wedding services you performed for us?"

"Sure, how could I forget?"

"Bill, you won't tell the Smoking Man about this conversation, will you?"

"Hell, no! What do you take me for?"

"Well, you are close friends with him. Now why, Bill, are you close friends with him?"

"Hard to say," he admitted. "We go back."

"OK, can you get Alex dressed and out the door? I'm coming to get him. We're running away together."

"Ah..Hum...you can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing, you're needed at that ceremony. For another thing, he would track you down. And then things wouldn't go so well for you. At the very least, he'd take Alex back and punish him severely. At the most, of course, he would kill you both. He doesn't take kindly to people who betray him -- don't you remember?"

Silence.

"So you see, you would be endangering yourself and Alex both. You'll be seeing Alex again in a couple of days, where you two will make love for hours, if you want."

"Is he still torturing Alex?"

"Well, not as of this minute. He's given him freedom to move around the house. Which he will lose again if he catches us talking, of course."

Big sigh. "OK. Put him back on, please."

"Mulder? I love you, I really, really do. Mulder, I wish I were in bed with you right now, sucking you off and tasting you, fucking you, being fucked. Mulder, I'm sorry, don't blame me for sleeping in another man's bed. I have no control over it. I'm a captive."

"I'm afraid you'll end up loving him, Alex."

"No, never. You can't change a man's heart like that." Oh, but you can. You can.

"I believe you, my love." It's not your fault, but I don't believe you.

"My lisitsa, most dearly beloved. I think about you all the time." 

When you're not eating gourmet dinners, wearing your emeralds, with the richest and most powerful man on the planet.

"I do too. I love you so much, Alex." But will you continue to love me?

Bill Runningwater cleared his throat.

"Mulder, I love you too, but I've got to go back to be-- to sleep." he said. "I don't want to get caught talking to you," Krycek said.

"OK, Alex," Mulder said reluctantly. "I love you, night-night, kiss-kiss!"

"I love you too, night-night, kiss-kiss!"

Krycek clicked the off button and rose reluctantly. "Ssh," said the Indian. Krycek padded back across the dining room to the bedroom, opened the door a crack and squeezed through it. He slid back into bed with the snoring Old Man, who halfway woke up and put his arms around Krycek. Krycek unwillingly snuggled close and placed his cheek against the man's chest. It felt like the Old Man had yet another erection, and Krycek hoped he wasn't awake enough to become aware of it; he'd want to do something about it. He went back to sleep, though, eventually the young man drifted off to sleep himself.

*************************************************

"Talked to Alex last night," Mulder said to Scully, over corn flakes.

"Really!" she squeaked. "How great, Mulder! What'd he say?"

"Well, I guess...he's OK...except he's being," he lowered his voice, "sort of, if you will excuse the expression...fucked to death by that old man."

She laughed, almost snorting out a corn flake. "Really! That's hard to imagine! Men that age--"

"--are taking Viagra," Mulder finished, nodding his head wisely, a sad expression on his face.

"Really, Mulder!"

"Remember," he said, "this is my father: the same man who sired me AND my sister off of the same woman, namely my unfaithful mother. He was a horny old goat back then, except that he was young, I suppose, though it is impossible for me to picture him that way, and he's a horny old goat now. And shtupping the hell out of poor Alex Krycek."

"Is Alex still tied up to the bed?"

"No, evidently the great man has given him the run of the house now."

"Then why doesn't he just fight him off? He's young and strong."

"Scully, he dare not! All kinds of dire things could happen, you know that."

"This relationship puzzles me...then are these encounters still like the rapes he was doing when Alex was chained to the bed?"

"Yes and no," said Mulder, chin in hands. "Yes, they're involuntary, he has to participate, or feels he has to."

"And no?" she asked, munching cornflakes.

"Ah...Um," he said miserably, "he's told me before that he uh, climaxes every single time."

She raised her eyebrows. "That doesn't sound like rape, Mulder."

"Well, that's why I'm so puzzled. I almost think there's more to it than...than either he lets on, or that he's aware of, more likely the latter."

She nodded, "yes, I agree, more likely the latter, because he's been very honest with you, Mulder, ever since the day he convinced you that the alien conspiracy was real...Remember?"

He laughed. "How could I forget! He kissed me!"

She rose from the table. "Coffee's ready, Mulder, want some?"

"I'd love some. Lots of sugar. But you knew that." She smiled, pouring the coffee.

"Anyway, Mulder," she said, coming back to the table and handing him his coffee. "Anyway," she said, sitting down, "now think: back when Krycek was your partner, back in 1994, even then he'd been recruited by the CSM."

He nodded. 

"And God knows what they were doing besides espionage," she said, rolling her eyes. She took a sip of her coffee. "Are you catching my drift, Mulder? Even probably before he was a kept man by the CSM, he had some kind of relationship with him. Drink your coffee, it's getting cold."

Mulder obediently took a sip.

"And when someone's got some kind of sexual...or...romantic relationship with someone, that makes it a very complex relationship. Feelings arise. They kind of have to, Mulder."

He put his cup down with a thump, stricken. "Then it's true, he does love him, despite everything he says to the contrary!"

She stirred her coffee. "No, I didn't say that. These feelings he probably has are complex. He hates the guy a whole lot, you know that. Don't you remember? The CSM locked Alex in that missile silo in North Dakota, just walked away, didn't come back till he'd screamed himself hoarse -- about a day and a half, I believe. He's done other things to Alex, too, directly and indirectly. Alex has more reason to hate him than most people on the planet. On the other hand, Mulder, he has since been in a sexual relationship with him, off and on for years, as we've discussed. Yes, he's been kept, and kept people by no means love their keepers. But..." She bent her head.

"But you think he has feelings for him anyway? This goes above and beyond the Stockholm Syndrome?"

She tapped her cheek with one perfectly-manicured finger. "Well, look," she said at last. "I could be full of it..."

"No, let me hear it!"

She shook her head. "I've already been overreaching myself. There's a lot about the male psyche I don't understand."

"What. Is. It?" he said.

"No." she said firmly. "I've already gone too far."

"Hoho, well, you're not the only one!" Mulder said, and drank his coffee moodily.

*************************************************

Promptly at 9 AM, Nightshade reported for the extra pay promised her. The Boss Man rose from his seat at the dining room table to greet her. "Barbara!" he said, "so good to see you!" She accepted a peck on the cheek, looking over at Fairy Boy at the table, eating an omelette sullenly. He was wearing some kind of white blousy shirt and all his emeralds. He eyed her disdainfully. Was he jealous? Hard to say, and she was sure it didn't bother her either way. She did know that it was hard to picture this fancy man as the same person who'd recently murdered three operatives. The Boss Man had done something to him. Probably fucked him to death, she imagined. All this went through her head as Spender handed her an envelope containing the money. 

"And you'll be taking care of Scimitar soon?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Krycek start. He knows her, she thought amusedly. Good. That'll make it that much more fun to kill her.

"Yes, probably today. And then?"

"And then I have another job for you, of course," he said, shaking out a Morley and lighting it. "One that will be as easy as shooting fish in a barrel. When you come back, I'll tell you then."

Nightshade left and the Old Man came back to the table. "Eat your eggs, Alex. Here, I'll pour you another Mimosa."

"Thanks. That Scimitar --" he began. The Old Man took a drag off his cigarette, inhaling smoke. "Yes?" "I went to school with her. College, grad school and then the Academy. I know her really well. She's a very nice person. Don't have her killed!"

The Old Man looked at him with astonishment. "Why, Alex, I thought all spies were your enemies!"

"Not this one," Krycek said, chewing moodily.

"Alex, I'm sorry if she's a personal friend of yours, but she's trying to bring us down and she has to be stopped. And that's final!"

"I still say--"

"No, you don't," said the Smoking Man coolly. "You don't have an opinion here." 

Krycek looked at him and read in his eyes a will greater than his own. He dropped his gaze to his plate and fiddled with the rest of his eggs.

"Alexei," the man said softly. "Alexei, look at me!" Krycek looked back up, unwillingly.

"Alex, do you realize what your job description is?"

Krycek nodded.

"All right, tell me what it is." To be your pretty, charming, stupid, mindless, unthinking, unfeeling whore.

"Um, not to talk back to you?"

"Alex, don't play stupid with me."

Krycek sighed and got up from the table.

"You don't leave me until I give you permission!" the man cried.

Krycek rolled his eyes. "I don't want to fight with you. Just please tell me what it is you want from me."

"Sit down." He sat.

"Your job here is to please me, which you do very, very well. If you didn't, I wouldn't keep you and lavish you with cars and million-dollar jewels. Your job is not to conduct espionage on the side, nor is it to tell me how to mind my business. You are beautiful and agreeable; you hang on my arm, you please me in bed: these are your duties."

Krycek nodded. "All right," he said. "I will remember it."

"See that you do! Alexei, I'm starting over with your freedom around the grounds by giving you an hour out of doors. If you are on foot, you will be accompanied by either Bill Runningwater or a guard. If you wish to ride, then Bill will ride with you, but he must ride Guardian so that you can't outrun him. You are not to attempt escape; you are not to speak to anyone outside the estate. I would go with you, but I can't; I have an urgent business matter to attend to. You behave yourself, Alexei!"

"OK," Krycek said, "and thank you!"

When he told Bill Runningwater about the arrangement with the horses, the Navajo's response was, "Sheesh! He knows I'm not the rider you are! I can't ride that racehorse!"

Krycek laughed. "Sure you can, Bill. 'Member, Guardian is incredibly well-trained in dressage. I did it myself!"

"All right," said Runningwater, "we'll ride tomorrow. In the meantime, let's just take a walk, Alexei. Uh, I thought you should know--"

"Mm?"

"The Old Man required me to be armed, just so you know," he said apologetically. "If you run, my orders are to shoot over your head, first."

"And then?"

"Shoot to injure. What the police and FBI do."

"Ha! You'd never shoot me!" Krycek said scornfully.

"Well, maybe I wouldn't," said Bill, but the guards would, and consider it a job well-done, too."

"Shit," said Krycek, shaking his head. "How does this fit in with his loving me, and all that?"

"Oh, he does love you, to distraction, just as I said. He has eyes for only you. Look, there's that gopher that's been pulling up the daisies!"

"Bill," he said, touching his arm, "how can he love me and yet want to shoot me?"

"The man's mind is different from yours and mine, and anyway, he DOESN'T want to shoot you! He wants you around. He wants to love you. He can't do that if you run away from him at every opportunity."

"Wouldn't you? I'm a prisoner and a slave. I think I'm gonna complain to the FBI."

*************************************************

The Steamer's house was in turmoil that Monday before the fateful Wednesday. Plans were being drawn up to set up the pavilion that would house the ceremony.

"I didn't know you needed one," said White, feeling a little harried, to Sharon.

"Neither did I," she answered with perfect equanimity. "I only knew for sure this morning that it would rain on Wednesday."

"But the weather report is for clear weather. This is just a bit early in the season here for rain."

"Nevertheless, it will rain. Anyway, yes, it should be about 25 by 35 feet. That will fit in the redwood circle. And it should have a white canopy, and sides that can roll down, with windows in the ..."

"Hey!" said White, running a hand through his thick, brushy hair. "You also want a golden throne, and velvet floors, missy? Can't you just do this yourself, with your powers?"

She looked down. "I am afraid that my powers will become depleted if I use them for just any old thing."

He looked to the heavens, mouthing "Saints, preserve us!"

"They will!" she giggled. "If you just put a bunch of tent poles in the ground and drape them with white cloth, I'll be satisfied."

White looked at her. "You sure?"

"Sure, it's fine," she said easily. "We just need something to keep the rain off our heads."

Mulder sat at the opposite end of the table, cracking sunflower seeds and piling the hulls up into a little hill on the table. "Mulder, make yourself useful!" White said irritably. "Go to the sporting goods store and get a bunch of tent poles, then go to the yardage store and get about, oh, fifty yards of white canvas. Or get as much as they have. Scully, will you go with him?"

"Yeah, OK," said Mulder and Scully at the same time, and they both laughed.

They decided to take Mulder's car, as it was capable of carrying more, although he was doubtful that everything would fit. On the way to the sporting goods store, Scully asked, "So! Are you excited about the day after tomorrow? You'll get to see Alex again!"

He nodded. "Yes, it's all I can think about. Well, I vacillate between hating my 'father', so to speak, and loving and missing Alex. How COME he's my father, Scully? Why not the nice man that Krycek shot?"

She pursed her lips. "Is this a rhetorical question? Your mother skipped out on the nice man twice, and got you and your sister. He must have been one hot number! You look like your mother, but Mulder, you got your fine mind from him.

"Call what he has a fine mind? It's like a cesspool."

She sighed. "You know, Mulder, you really should be in therapy so you could work through some of this. You're a psychologist; you know that. Doesn't it say something in Freud's Totem and Taboo about..."

"Here's our store!" he said suddenly. 

He said, once in the store, "Hey, Scully? What are tent poles?"

She looked at him and laughed. "Poles that hold up a tent?"

Their second stop was at the fabric store. While Scully went through the rolls of canvas, trying to find the right weight and color, Mulder wandered around, eating seeds and dropping the hulls in his pocket. He passed a girl at the calico display, thought he saw something, circled back to get a better look at her. Yes! That was Mahdib Abdul, an old friend of Alex's who, rumor had it, had gone into espionage. She was a very beautiful woman of medium height, slim, with great dark eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses and an enormous mass of curly hair. 

"Mahdib?" he asked.

"Yes, Fox? Great to see you again!" she said, the big hair shaking and the slim hands extended. "How is Alex? He's working, isn't he?"

"Alex is fine," he said carefully. "Listen, can we go outside?" She looked puzzled but acquiesced. Scully, two tables over, looked up and frowned faintly. "Just a minute Scully!" he called.

"Is that your partner?" she asked, when they'd gotten outside.

He nodded. "Dana Scully. I'll introduce you if you want."

"Whatever. What have you got to tell me, Fox?"

"Mahdib, if you're working for the Consortium again, and I'll bet you are, there's this spook after you. Her name is Nightshade and she's indeed deadly. She will stop at nothing to accomplish her ends, and she's being paid handsomely to do it. Moreover, she enjoys killing. She's a master of languages and disguises. I think you should leave the area for at least the next couple of days."

She frowned. "I did study her, and I'm being paid to get her, you know. I think I should be able to do it."

He shook his head. "Not Nightshade. You won't. You never know where she'll strike."

She nodded. "You're getting this information from Alex, who's getting it from the Smoking Man, whom he works for again; and maybe he's getting it from Nightshade herself."

His jaw dropped. "Well, I am a spy, Fox, after all," she said calmly. "Don't look so shocked. I understand Alex isn't working in any, um, official capacity. What's the nice expression for it? He's a kept man?"

Mulder felt the blood rush to his face. Mahdib extended a sympathetic arm. "I'm really sorry, Fox, I know how sweet you always were on him."

"Well, look," Mulder said, "the important aspect of this conversation is to convey to you the deadliness of this particular operative. I'd hate for something to happen to you!"

"Tell you what, if it makes you feel any better, I'll get another motel room, or better yet, rent a house for a little while. And I'll vary my habits."

"You should at least drive over the hill to San Jose. It's a big place; you can get lost there."

She nodded. "I'll take all this under advisement. Thank you, Fox, and it's been really good seeing you!"

In answer he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips, and then she was gone.

Scully was gesturing to him from the store.

*************************************************

Nightshade prepared an elaborate disguise: face putty, again, to change her facial features; bands of fabric to bind her small breasts; loose-fitting jeans, a men's brown tweed blazer with suede elbow patches, loafers, a brown wig which she tipped with grey with a silver grease pencil; a neat beard and mustache, shaggy eyebrows, to be attached with spirit gum, also greyed realistically here and there; a tan eyebrow pencil to create crinkles around her eyes. 

She looked at herself admiringly in the mirror. Yes, it was good. If anyone remembered her, they'd have seen a middle-aged professorial-type man, not a young beach-blonde woman.

Oh, she was so looking forward to this! She got such a rush from killing, almost like a sexual thrill, unlike that pansy-ass Alex Krycek, to whom she was supposed to aspire. Krycek's kills were done for money or out of hatred, or necessity. It didn't thrill him. She knew this, and it inspired contempt for him. Too, he was queer. Spies shouldn't be queer, she thought with distaste.

Nightshade pulled out her stiletto and tested it gently on the tip of one finger, drawing blood. Sharp. The Boss Man was queer too, she supposed, although he'd certainly had his share of women, siring what amounted to a small nation, including that Fox Mulder and his sister. What a whore Mulder's mother had been. Mulder, Krycek's lover. What a sick, dysfunctional family group THEY were, Mulder and Spender vying for the same pathetic man.

Maybe, after all this was done, and she had the Power, she'd take care of them all, all the people who disgusted her, who were inferior to her. She never intended to take the secrets of the Power back to the Boss. They were hers, and hers alone. The first to go would be Fairy Boy, she thought. Then that bitch Sharon Green and her unborn bastard brat. Then -- oh, she would do a lot of killing, and delight in it.

Meanwhile, she'd go out and hunt for Abdul.

*************************************************

After their walk, Bill Runningwater began on lunch, and Krycek wandered into the living room. He picked up Le Rouge et Le Noir, by Stendhal, a tome he'd read in college but mostly forgotten. The stereo was tuned to an 80's station, and he left it on for a couple of hours while he read the book, engrossed.

"The Old Man is coming back around noon," warned Bill. "You might want to prepare a nice surprise for him. Put satin sheets on the bed. You, nude, on those sheets? He's gonna love it."

Krycek groaned. "Why do I have to be such a whore?"

"Stop complaining and do it."

Krycek went into the bedroom. "Do this, Alex, Do that, Alex. DON'T do this or that, Alex. Shut up, Alex. Obey, Alex. Suck cock, Alex."

"I can hear you!"

Snarling, he looked in the linen closet. The silver wouldn't look good next to his skin. The gold, blecch. The black, too witchy. The red, though, very whory. He pulled the sheets out and changed them, checking his watch. 11:45. He shucked his clothes, shoving them under the bed, and lay down on the sheets. Think sexy thoughts. Mulder...Mulder's lips on his cock, his tongue, his mouth, his THROAT on it. Ah. He was beginning to get a rise out of himself.

He heard the back door open and shut and a masculine voice greeting Bill. Oh-oh. He'd better get it up for real. He closed his eyes and stroked his cock up and down. There it was, large and rock-hard and pointed at the ceiling. He continued to stroke it, licking his own pre-come off his hand and thinking of Mulder, Mulder. He smelled smoke in the room and opened his eyes and there was the Big Guy, smoking and observing him. Krycek smiled a slow sleepy smile.

"Alexei," the man said, "You look good enough to eat."

"Come eat me, then," said Krycek.

The man leaned over the bed and kissed him, kissed him down and down.

A few moments later Krycek was sliding on his back up and down the smooth sheets while the Old Man pounded him. "Use that special word," the man gasped. "That Russian expression. The one you use with Mulder. Say it!"

"Lisa," said Krycek wretchedly, "Lisitsa."

"What do they mean?"

"They are my words for Mulder only &#8230; Darling. Dearest loved one," he said.

"Tell...Me...You...Love...Me!" the Old Man gasped out.

Krycek reached up, stroked the Old Man's face, his chest. "I love you, lisa. Lisitsa, I love you," he said breathily, and then came in great shuddering gasps so that it almost seemed that he did love him.

"I..love..you...too...Alex," the man said, and came deep inside Krycek, groaning and convulsing for a long time.

The Old Man arose from the bed and went to his vast closet, carefully selecting a suit which was identical to the approximately 1,500 he had. 

Krycek lay on his stomach, his face buried in a pillow. The CSM had made him use the sacred words, the names he used only for Mulder. Now they were profane and unfit for use. They had been sullied. He could think of some Russian words he'd like to use on the Old Man right about now. He giggled suddenly because he had once sworn at Mulder using those words, right before they went to Tunguska. Then he grew quiet again, thinking about what had happened in Tunguska.

"When all this D-Day business is over, we'll be moving, Alexei," the CSM said, knotting his tie. 

"Moving?" Krycek said, into the pillow.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" the man said impatiently.

Krycek turned around. "Yes? Moving?"

"Yes, to this town called Portola Valley. It's very pretty, you'll like it. You can have the horses there."

"How far is it?"

"About 50 miles from here, not far away. It's near Stanford University."

"Oh." said Krycek. "Why are we moving?"

"Business." the man said shortly. Yeah, I can just imagine, thought Krycek.

"But for a month, we're taking a trip to Tahiti, Fiji, other ports of call...just you and I."

Krycek nodded. "Sounds like fun." When was he ever going to be with Mulder again?

"I'm going out again, Alex. I'll be back in the evening, around 7. Have another nice surprise waiting for me, then we'll shower and have dinner, OK?

"Of course, lisitsa."

The tall man smiled, came around to Alex's side of the bed and kissed him. "Leaving now," he said brusquely.

Krycek got dressed and wandered out to the kitchen. "What's that, Bill?"

"It's B'stiya."

"Bastilla?"

"It's a pigeon pie made with phyllo dough and flavored with saffron, cinnamon and cardamom. You'll like it. It's for dinner."

"People are always telling me, 'you'll like it'," grumbled Krycek. "Hey, Bill, you know this thing about Scimitar, that the Old Man got so bent out of shape about?"

"Yes?"

"Listen, I'm really concerned about this. I don't want her to die! We were really good friends. I knew her back when. Her name is Mahdib Abdul, unless she got married and changed it. We even dated, before I figured out I was queer."

Runningwater looked up. "I don't know what to say. If this Nightshade is after her, I fear she hasn't long to live."

"That's what I'm deathly afraid of. I wish I could do something."

"You can't do anything; it's out of your hands. And if you try to interfere, it'll just piss the Old Man off. You can't risk too much of that, although you sure left him with a smile on his face this afternoon!"

Krycek grimaced. "He made me use the special Russian names I use for Mulder, lisa and lisitsa. He knows they're Mulder's. He did that to me on purpose."

"Shit!" said Bill. "Always playing his head games! Look," he said. "I'll use my cell phone and call Mulder about the danger Mahdib is in, OK? Will that make you feel better? That way, it's on me, not you."

Krycek looked at him solemnly for a long moment, then hugged and kissed him. "Aw, sheesh!" said Bill Runningwater.

*************************************************

It turned out that all that canvas weighed about 500 pounds or something, or might as well have, because it took several strong sales clerks to carry it out to the car.

"We've got the stuff," Mulder commented breezily. "We just can't get it out of the car."

Sharon, curious, went out to look at it and came back, giggling. "Did you buy the manufacturer out?"

Scully looked at her; it occurred to her that she'd never heard the girl laugh. "We just about did," she said.

White was studying a map and his plans. "You know, this particular site is a long walk from any parking lot. Could we get one that's closer?"

"No," said Sharon, drinking a glass of orange juice. "We can't. This one is it."

White sighed. "Dana, why aren't you helping me with this crap?"

"Because I can't be in two places at once, David. What do you need help with?"

They conferred. Sharon drank her juice and looked at Mulder. "Mulder," she said suddenly, "two things: first, Alex is doing all right. He's getting his karma worked down pretty quickly. Second, your friend Mahdib is taking care of herself. You don't have to worry about those two, OK?"

Mulder looked at her. "I have a question for you."

"Shoot," she said.

"All this stuff about Alex working off his bad karma. What about the Smoking Man? He's the one with the bad karma. You don't know what he's done!"

"Oh, don't I?" she said. "This is the situation with him, Mulder: he will not have a chance to work his bad karma out in this lifetime. The one thing that will effect change for him? I hate to say it, but it's his relationship with Alex. He's growing as a result of being with Alex; Alex has taught him a lot already."

"Jesus," said Mulder. "I don't like to think of there being a "relationship" between them."

"Of course there is. My original point, though, is that, basically, he'll be reborn as a slug, if he's that lucky."

He laughed. "But does that mean I'll be reborn as a sluglet?"

*************************************************

The Consortium sat in their usual spot in the Crow's Nest Restaurant, glumly contemplating their recent misfortune.

"Dragonsblood was of course murdered by Nightshade," said The First Elder, digging into his cioppino. "And Scimitar has gone into hiding. She said she'd call again with her new location as soon as she could."

"Damn this Nightshade anyway!" thundered the Well-Manicured Man. "Why can't we take her out?"

"Because we don't have Alex Krycek," someone volunteered.

The WMM glared at his plate of sole ratatouille. "Damn Alex Krycek too! We could have hired him if Spender hadn't ruined him!"

"Could we still get him?" a small elderly man asked hopefully. "Rumor has it that he hates the guy and wants to get away from him."

"I tried that, remember?" the WMM said. "Not only was I unsuccessful, but now we have Spender turned completely against us, forever."

"My suggestion would be to kidnap him," said The First Elder, draining his glass of Moscato. "WAITER!!...more wine, please!"

"Who, Krycek? We can't do that," said the WMM irritably, taking a bite of his veal. "He's under armed guard at all times, and you know they've got ground radar."

"We could try. Get Scimitar and some armed people of our own. We could do it."

"You don't understand. Spender has turned him into his fancy man. When he talked to me, he was in the old man's robe, covered with gaudy jewelry and stinking of cologne. He is ruined for this work. And we don't have time to deprogram him. Time is getting very short!"

"Yes, it is indeed," remarked The First Elder, halfway through his third glass of wine.

*************************************************

Mahdib Abdul, aka Scimitar, didn't go home immediately. Instead, she picked up a paper and scanned the rentals. Finding a house she thought would be OK, on Western Drive, she called and explained she'd need it "right away. Within two hours," she said. "And I'll pay over what you're asking. I'll pay twice what you're asking!"

The startled homeowner acquiesced and agreed to meet her in two hours' time with the key. Mahdib drove to her motel room and threw her things in her bags. Walking out to her car, she noticed a Ferrari in the carport, and she started. It was empty, but it was the model, year and color of Nightshade's car. She opened the hood, which was still hot, and pulled out the distributor. Then she extracted from a bag a box of couscous mix and poured that down the radiator. She glanced around. No one had seen her. She barely noticed the man of maybe 40 years ambling unconcernedly from door to door on the tier above her, trying every door.

Mahdib's new digs were pretty nice, but she barely noticed. She unpacked a Kalashnikov, made sure the magazines were full, and a Beretta, which she fitted with a new clip. Then she changed into jeans and T-shirt. And waited.

*************************************************

At 12:30 PM, Mulder's cell phone shrilled. "Mulder. Oh, hi Bill! How are you? Uh-huh. Uh-huh, yeah I remember her. Uh-huh...You know, what a coincidence, I just ran into her at the store! Yes, I told her, I figured Nightshade would be after her. Uh-huh. Yes, please put him on!"

"Krycek," came the breathy, husky voice. Mulder felt a chill go up his spine so intense he thought he would black out.

"ALEX! ALEX!" he shouted, and the folks in the kitchen looked up. "Oh, my love, how are you?"

"Pretty much the same as yesterday!" Krycek laughed.

"What'd you do today?"

"Went out for a walk with Bill...The Old Man's required that he be armed."

"To shoot intruders?"

"To shoot me!"

"I'll kill him!" Mulder ground out.

"You and how many millions of others?"

"Alex, why so cavalier?"

"Well, for one thing, I guess I've accepted my fate. For another, I've had a glass of pretty good burgundy and some Ativan..."

"Alex, you're beginning to sound like a budding alcoholic or addict...do you do that to try to escape?"

"Yes," he said, "and you, too, Mulder, would do the same." 

"I guess I would," Mulder said miserably. "Oh, Alex! I miss you so much! I love you to distraction! Why can't you just...Alex! Why haven't I thought of this before! Why can't you just kill him? You'd be getting rid of your problem and ridding the world of a monstrous evil, simultaneously!"

"Because I can't," Krycek said wretchedly. "I can't."

"You're physically unable to? You don't want to? What?"

"Sharon told me not to."

"Oh, SHARON told you not to!" Mulder roared, looking over at Sharon, who sat curled up on the love seat. She raised one slim dark brow at him.

Mulder shook his head at her and turned toward the east window. "Alex," he said, "look, I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to do. It's just that this ... this being held prisoner, and what he does to you there, are beginning to wear mighty thin on me! I don't care if he is my father, I want him dead!"

"No, you don't, Mulder," Krycek said patiently. "You really don't. Look, I'll see you day after tomorrow....We'll be together for hours ..."

"Then you've got to go back to him, in the end."

"I do, for now. I should go soon, Mulder. I'm glad you're OK and that Mahdib knows."

"I love you, Alex. Don't forget that! Don't let him get inside your head. You've read 1984, by Orwell?"

"Of course, Mulder. And I understand what you mean. Now, bye, my love."

"Say the 'lisitsa' thing!"

"I can't. It's no longer ours."

"He's even taken that from you?" Mulder cried. "I will hurt the bastard!"

"Well, then, bye, moy lyubov."

"Bye, darling Alex."

Mulder slammed the cell phone down on the end table. "Mulder, that phone won't last long if you keep doing that!" Scully said mildly.

"Scully, I just can't take it any longer!" he yelled. "I can't, I can't!" He grabbed his jacket pocket, trying to stuff the phone in, and it ripped.

"Rending your garments, Mulder?" she asked, getting up from the table and hugging him. "Hey, baby, it'll be all right," she soothed as Mulder sobbed on her shoulder. "It'll be all right, I promise it will. You just have to be patient, baby. Let the process play itself out. You can have some Ativan if you need it."

He raised his head from her shoulder. "I don't wanna turn into a drug addict, as I fear Alex is doing."

She shook her head. "This is to cope with a very stressful situation. Alex has to cope too, somehow, Mulder. He's under more stress than any of us, save Sharon of course."

"Who doesn't seem to be under any kind of stress at all," said Mulder, looking over at her. She had something like a Rosary she was counting.

"She is, though," Scully said, in low tones. "She is."

*************************************************

Nightshade discovered one open motel unit and went idly inside. If she found no trace of Scimitar, of course she would pick every lock until she had. It was empty but showed signs of recent habitation. Nightshade went quickly through the trash, came up with a credit card receipt for Bookshop Santa Cruz that was imprinted and signed, "Melinda Abriz." Well, that had to be her. There were a couple of hairs in the trash, too, long kinky dark ones. She smirked. "Melinda Abriz" had skipped out on her, and hadn't been any too careful about it, either. She'd find her, of course; the question was, now, or tomorrow?

Walking out to her car, she suspected nothing amiss. When she tried to start it, however, the Ferrari wouldn't turn over, wouldn't make even a noise other than the click of the solenoid. Popping the hood, she discovered the distributor missing. 

The radiator cap had popped partway off and she saw that the radiator was full of something like rice. Shit! The bitch! How had she missed her? Well, she now had a disabled car. She placed one call to the towing service, another to the dealership, a third to Pioneer Rentals and a fourth to the Old Man. She got his voice mail and left a terse report.

Soon she was driving a late-model Toyota Camry, nice enough, not like her Ferrari but then again far less noticeable. She would track that bitch down, and then she would kill her, and it would not be a quick death. She laughed to herself, thinking of the death of Sparrowhawk. That had been a grisly killing, and she had to respect Krycek for it. How much worse, though, would it go for this Arab bitch who dared to oppose her!

*************************************************

"You want me to do what?" Krycek asked in annoyance, dipping a finger in the pan of melted butter and sticking it in his mouth.

"I want you to put some of this on," Runningwater said, indicating a cosmetics bag. "I think he'd really like it. A little kinky, you know."

"Makeup? You've gotta be kidding! That's for girls!" he said disdainfully.

"Well?" Runningwater asked.

"Oh all right! Will you help me?"

"Sure, soon as I get this phyllo buttered and in the pan. You can help me, you know."

They sat in front of the lighted vanity, Bill applying mascara, liner, shadow, and the faintest blush of a neutral lipstick. "Look," he said, turning Krycek's face this way and that, catching every angle.

"Yeah, so? I look like a drag queen!"

"No, not at all, Alexei. I've just put on enough to bring out your natural beauty. Your eyes, your lips..."

Krycek's eyes did look huge and dark in his pale face, and his lower lip more pouty than ever. "Now what?"

"Don't smudge it! When seven o'clock rolls around, you go up to him and kiss him, like that. He's gonna love it so much he'll practically come in his pants."

"Wish he would!" said Krycek moodily.

At 3:00 he came banging through the door. "Where's Alex?" he demanded. Runningwater indicated the bedroom.

Krycek, who was in his silk boxers picking out just the right outfit, heard him come home. He stood at the bedroom door. "Lisitsa," he purred, and approaching the Old Man, embraced him and kissed him deeply and as long as he could before coming up for air.

"You've never kissed me like that," the Old Man said wonderingly. "And just look at you! How lovely you are, Alexei! Here," he said, sliding a hand down Krycek's boxers, "let's see...you have something for me!"

Krycek just looked at him, meltingly.

"Stand up against the wall, Alex. You know how-- that's right."

The Old Man approached, unzipped and plunged immediately into Krycek, who gasped. He rarely bothered to use lube, and it hurt. "Look at me," the Old Man instructed. He kissed Krycek. "You are so beautiful, Alex! There's no one like you!"

He reached around and grasped Krycek's cock, sliding up and down. Krycek groaned. Mulder. "I love it when you make those sexy noises," he whispered. "You are so hot, Alex."

"Lisa," Krycek murmured. "I love you," as the man pounded into him. Easy to say, when he was thinking of Mulder.

The stroking hand was having its effect. Mulder, he thought, and came, crying "Lisitsa!" Shortly thereafter the CSM came, yelling "Alex!" Afterward, he kissed Krycek fervently.

"Have you noticed the guards aren't around today?" he remarked. "They're at the periphery of the property, but not right in the house, bothering you with their presence. I trust you just a little bit more, Alex, each day. When I believe that you truly love me, Alex, I'll give you the freedom to do almost anything you want."

Krycek smiled at him, went and kissed him again.

"I've got to leave again, Alex. I may not be back until tomorrow. Behave, and keep the home fires burning!"

"Bye, my love," Krycek said. Getting stupid in your old age, he thought. "Truly love" him? As if!

After he'd left, he put a robe on went out to the kitchen to bug Bill Runningwater, who was taking out the b'stiyas. "I called the guards in to help us eat these," he told Krycek. Looking at the young man, he said, "looks like the Old Man already had his snack! Alexei, you're gonna have to wear something besides that robe around the guards. At least one of them is bent."

*************************************************

The call came in at 4:00 PM. "Yes?" she answered. "Oh, hi, Boss! Mm-hm..No, the bitch fucked up my car," she said. "It won't be ready till day after tomorrow. But hey, look, the Camry's a lot less noticeable. Any idea where she went? Does Krycek know? Will you ask him? Uh-huh..Uh-Uh." She stuck the phone in her pocket and paced around the motel room, still in drag. What to do? What to do? She ought to get that Krycek alone and pressure him into telling something, and she knew how to do it. But with those guards and all around that Fancy Boy? Pretty hard to do. What about Mulder? He would know what Krycek knew. But alas, either he or Scully or that sharp-eyed Sharon would make her, despite any amount of disguise. And they were armed, so little chance of abduction. 

I know, she thought. I know. She swiftly tore off her clothes, ripped off her facial gook, her wig, beard and mustache, washed her face. She donned a dark brown women's wig, her suit, pumps, pulled one of her fake ID's out of her wallet, a badge. She put on careful makeup and voila! With her beach-tan, she was now Hispanic.

She pulled a colored-fax photo of Scimitar out of her briefcase. It was a clear reproduction, sent by one of the Old Man's minions. Then she took the briefcase, the fax, and the fake ID with her. She tried the Local Safeway. "FBI. Have you seen this woman?" she asked in her Latina accent, over and over. Finally, after an hour of this, she hit pay dirt.

"Um, I think she was in about two hours ago," a young man said. "She's pretty, isn't she?"

"Did you notice her car? Which way she was going?"

"She got in some generic thing and went that way," he turned and indicated Western Drive.

*************************************************

"Are you nervous?" Scully asked Sharon, taking her hand.

"No, I'm fine," the girl said serenely.

"Tomorrow we'll set up the pavilion, then we'll be all set."

"I know."

"Do you predict we'll be successful in our endeavors?"

"Yes, I do. Don't worry, Scully! You'll be all right."

"But you won't?"

"That depends upon what you think of as 'all right.' I'll be with the Goddess, with God. That's all right to me."

Scully nodded. "I understand. If you must go, truly, I'll miss you so much!" and she began to cry. "I love you, Sharon, we all do!"

"Darling Scully, I love you too! Things will be all right, you'll see," she said, smoothing her sleek red mane.

"You save the world from its greatest enemy, and what's in it for you?" Scully cried.

"I can't look at what's in it for me. That's irrelevant," said Sharon calmly. 

"Do you have to do this? Isn't there any other way?"

"There is no other way, and no other person than me. You know that."

Scully looked at her. "What exactly is going to happen day after tomorrow night? I think we're all pretty scared, partly because of the unknown."

"You know part of it already. The rest shall be revealed. It will unfold before you. There's nothing you have to do, Scully, but believe."

Scully looked at her and marveled: this young woman who possessed equanimity, maturity and poise far beyond her years was even untroubled by the prospect of her own death.

"Do you think so?" Sharon asked softly. "No one wants to die."

*************************************************

"Hey, Langly."

"Hey, Frohike."

"Are you gonna eat that sandwich with a sucker in your mouth?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Eeeww."

The three Lone Gunmen were seated at a picnic bench outside the Lone Oak Restaurant by the campus bookstore. They'd been raiding the bookstore, which was open late today, for interesting tomes: The Physics of Buckyballs; C++ as Zen, A Social History of Computer Games, and now had to replenish their energy supplies. "Sprout sandwiches," said Langly critically, but they each bought one and an organic soda and ate them.

"How are you boys doing? All ready for the ceremony day after tomorrow?"

They looked at each other. "Ye gods," said Langly, "that's like asking if we're ready for a simultaneous hurricane, tsunami and volcanic eruption."

Frohike nodded. "Of course, we'd rather not go."

Byers said, "You have the option of staying home, of course, but I think we should go and support Sharon."

"But what can we DO?" asked Frohike. "We're useless."

"Yeah," added Langly, playing with his sucker.

Byers shook his head. "I don't think we are useless. Just supporting her is a good thing. And there might be something we could do."

"OK then," sighed Frohike. "I guess we go to this wingding."

"OK," said Langly. "One for all and all for one and all that!"

"Good," said Byers. "This experience will separate the men from the boys. Are we men or are we boys?"

"Men," said Langly, through his sucker.

"Men," echoed Frohike.

"Now eat your sandwich, Frohike, before the banana slugs get it."

*************************************************

Nightshade drove a little way up Western Drive and parked. Now she would proceed on foot, her pumps having been exchanged for running shoes. She carried with her a folder identifying her as Anna Morales, real estate agent. As casually as she could, she began to knock on doors, explaining in her fake Latin accent that she was a realtor new to the area, and that she was looking for prospective sellers. She smiled a great deal and earned many smiles back, and appreciative glances from the men.

If no one answered her knock, she peeked in the windows and garages, looking for signs of Scimitar.

*************************************************

Mahdib sat in her living room, looking out the window. When -- not if, but when -- Nightshade showed up, she would blast her with the AK-47. As the afternoon faded into evening, the sun dipping into the sea, she kept up her grim and lonely vigil, only relinquishing it once, to go to the bathroom. As far as she could tell, Nightshade hadn't sneaked in during her brief absence.

Mahdib began to sing, low at first and then a little louder, a beautiful Persian song about love found and lost, and she thought of Alex Krycek.

*************************************************

Alex went to bed early, the stereo blasting Vivaldi, programmed to repeat. He was nude, in case the Old Man arrived during the night. He couldn't sleep, even with the extra Ativan cadged from Runningwater, so he stared moodily at the ceiling, contemplating his fate. Day after tomorrow --Mulder day! He had no idea how Sharon would get him out, but had no doubt she could do it.

His butt was very sore, and he sincerely hoped the Old Man wouldn't screw him anytime in the immediate near future. He thought back over the past. He'd had no idea, of course, that simply being gay would have set him up like this. Hooked him up with possibly the most powerful man in the world. If he could have changed things about his past, he decided, he would've married Mahdib and settled down with kids and all. He would have stayed straight. Even back then, though, he had to admit to himself, he was very attracted to men. Then, of course, when he was assigned to spy on Mulder, he took one look at the man and fell head-over-heels in love. He got to fuck him a month later, and occasionally for the next several years, whenever fate threw them together, even in the prison camp in Tunguska. In the in-between times, there'd been -- oh, he didn't want to think about it. A stream of men, faceless to him, mindless, soulless, just bodies to use.

Whenever he was with Mulder, he felt fulfilled, not just sexually, physically, but spiritually. Oh, Mulder. Lyubov. That was the term of endearment he would use for Mulder, since the others had been irretrievably lost. He was surprised to feel a tear trickling down his face and falling in his hair. Then another, and another, and soon it was a torrent, and he was crying into his pillow.

Bill Runningwater heard the muffled sobs and came running to comfort Krycek, holding him and rocking him like a baby. "There, there." he soothed. "Cry if you need to, Alexei."

"I want Mulder!" he sobbed. "Only Mulder! Mulder, Mulder!"

"You'll be with him day after tomorrow, Alexei!"

"I want him all the time!"

"There may come a time when you are reunited, Alexei. In the meantime, remember you are with a man who loves you and who gives you many beautiful things and a nice lifestyle."

"I don't want 'em!" Krycek cried. "And I don't want him! I hate life! I want to die!"

Runningwater sighed. "I'll be right back!" He came back with a syringe. "Alexei, this will help you cope," he said, swabbed his arm and injected him.

"What is it?"

"It's alprazolam."

Krycek soon calmed considerably, allowing Bill to lead him to the bathroom to wash his face, and to brush his hair and look at his nails. "OK, you're presentable," he remarked. "Such a pretty boy! Put a robe on and come out for a piece of cake."

Krycek obediently followed him out and ate a piece of chocolate cake. Halfway through, there were footsteps on the stairs outside (oh-oh) and the door opened. Damn, I can't even eat dessert, he thought, before he was roughly grabbed, pulled up out of his chair and kissed. His master said bluntly, "Bill, you'll have to leave, unless you want to see this. Bend over the table, Alex. That's right." The Old Man lifted up his robe and took him. It was painful, too; he was already so sore. The Old Man rubbed Krycek's cock and he came, mostly on the table. When the Old Man came, he banged Krycek so hard he lost his balance and landed in the cake. At least the guy didn't offer to lick it off. Instead he kissed Krycek, zipped up and ran out the door.

"Geez, Bill" said Krycek, to Runningwater, who had come back into the room. "These are like sniper attacks, you know?"

Bill laughed. "It's funny, isn't it?"

"Is he gonna continue to do this?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. He has pressing business elsewhere, then he plans to attend the D-Day ceremony."

Krycek's head shot up. "Oh, no," he said, "oh no, I don't think so! Oh, no! I'm calling Sharon! He'll do something horrible!"

"Don't you think Sharon already knows about it?

"I'm calling her anyway," Krycek said, dialing the Steamer's house number. Mulder answered.

"Mulder, this is Alex."

"ALEX!! Oh, my God. I'm always so happy to hear from you! What's up?"

"I wanted to hear your voice, my love, lyubov. Oh, my love!"

"How many times did he fuck you today?" Mulder asked bluntly.

"I don't know...three or four...it's not important!"

"Yes, it is! The number of times he screws you is the same number of nails I'm gonna put in his coffin...not that I need to!" he laughed.

"Mulder, he plans to attend D-Day!"

Silence. Murderous silence. "If he does, then I will kill him," said Mulder quietly.

"Mulder, I need to talk to Sharon."

"Sharon's not here, but I'll be glad to take a message."

"Just tell her what I told you! She needs to stop it! He can't go! This is very urgent! At the very least he will stop the Great Rite! Mulder, take me seriously! The fate of the world hangs in the balance!"

"I will tell her," said Mulder. "And, you just told me what I needed to know about your relationship with that old man. Thank you, and thank God! I feel much better, Alex."

"Well, sure. Mulder, this is so important!"

"I know. The thing is, Alex, I'm sure Sharon already knows, and that she will take steps to stop him."

"OK, but please tell her anyway. Mulder?"

"Alex?"

"I love you!"

"I love you too, Alex. More than you could ever know. And you have relieved many of my hurts and worries."

"Bye, Mulder. Kiss, kiss."

"Kiss, kiss, my love."

*************************************************

As the shadows lengthened and dusk became darkness, Mahdib kept up her lonely vigil by the window, sitting so that she was hidden by the drapes and yet could still see out with no difficulty. She rubbed her straining eyes and looked out again. A dark slim woman in a suit was approaching the front door. She knocked. 

"Who is it?" Mahdib asked, training the AK-47 at the front door. "Anna Morales, Century 21," was the answer, delivered in a typical Spanish accent. She relaxed slightly. "We're not interested!" she called. "OK, thank you!" the woman responded. Mahdib watched her walk down the walkway, first removing her pumps and putting on running shoes she'd dug out of her briefcase. Something about that struck Mahdib as odd. Why did she need running shoes? She was probably only parked a few feet away.

Fear, and certainty, grew in Mahdib, and she checked all the doors and windows in the house. Everything secure. But when Nightshade attacked, if that indeed were she, where would she strike first?

*************************************************

When Nightshade knocked on the door of 113 Western Drive, and heard that voice, Scimitar's voice, she knew she'd struck gold. She would attack her from behind, the back door, and take her unawares. She made as if she were walking to the next house, doubled back, opened the gate and crept around to the back of the house. Carefully, carefully she took out her lock-pick set and picked the back door lock, a relatively simple matter. She opened the door slightly and was rewarded with a blast from Mahdib's AK-47. She jumped back but took a bullet in her left arm. She didn't even fire back but ran, dropping her briefcase, up the driveway, gunfire following her, then down the steep hill to her Camry. She got in, breathing hard. That arm...not lethal, but pretty damned ugly. She tore a strip of fabric from the lining of her suit and applied it as a tourniquet. She'd have to get to an emergency room for that wound, and fast, and she'd just have to make up some good stories.

She drove to the hospital and was admitted almost immediately. She told them she'd been cleaning her gun and it went off. The resident looked at the wound and shook his head. "You must have a hell of a handgun," he remarked, and extracted the slug, cleaned and sutured the arm without further comment. Afterwards, waiting for her instructions and prescriptions, she punched in the boss's cell phone number. "Sir, this is Nightshade...Yeah, well, this isn't good news...she's at 113 Western Drive...I was shot, left arm...got a small arsenal up there. We need more firepower. If you send people now, you stand a chance of getting her... Oh, really, you're too kind...another job? All right...at your house, half an hour...'k, thanks!"

She stuck the phone in her pocket and began the drive, one-armed, up to Soquel.

*************************************************

Mahdib backed her car out of the garage so fast she thought she'd tear the rising door right off its hinges. She gunned the car down Western, up Mission and onto Highway 17, headed for the size and relative anonymity of Silicon Valley. She checked into the Red Lion Inn in downtown San Jose, double-locked the doors and sat on the bed, placing a terse call. "Yes, this is Scimitar, and I'm in San Jose...I tried Western Drive, but she smoked me out...I shot her, not fatally...yes....she'll be calling the Old Man for greater firepower... Yes, please take me off the case..I can't win...oh, really? Hmm...Well, I will consider it, OK? You can reach me on my cell phone."

She hung up and stretched out on the bed. She fell asleep fully clothed and had terrifying nightmares. In her dreams, a giant black wolf was scratching and howling at the door; she knew it was just a matter of time before it got in.

*************************************************

Nightshade was looking forward to the freakshow at the Soquel house: the Indian, the Old Man, and Alex Krycek, all three queers. How she laughed inside when she saw them. She knocked on the door and the Navajo answered. "Come in; Mr. Spender is expecting you." They were in the living room, and Nightshade was invited to sit down. 

"Barbara, it's always so nice to see you!" the Old Man said. He was seated on the loveseat and his fancy boy was on his left, curled up and literally hanging on his arm. Krycek didn't say anything but tilted his chin and gave her an insolent look, then licked the Old Man's left ear.

She looked away. That was just disgusting. Krycek ought to be ashamed of himself. "...extra money," the Old Man was saying. He reached in his suit pocket for a wad of cash and handed it to Nightshade. "I've deployed people to go to that Western Drive location...Sweetheart, get me another whisky sour, will you? Barbara, do you want anything to drink?"

"Just Coke, please."

"Get her a Coke, please, love, OK? And bring me an ashtray."

Krycek was glad they couldn't see his face as he fetched the Coke and the ashtray and mixed the sour. That bitch and that old bastard should get together, he thought. They were made for each other. He brought the drinks back and served them, then curled up again next to the Old Man, his one arm wrapped around him as he talked and smoked and drank, nibbling along his neck and playing with his hair. His sharp mind was going a million miles an hour...it must be Scimitar they were talking about. His jaw muscles tensed, then he remembered that Sharon said Scimitar would be all right.

"Now, as for this other matter," he started to say, then glanced at Krycek. "Sweetheart, why don't you go to bed? Just wait for me; I won't be long."

Krycek reluctantly rose and walked to the dining room. "Hi, Bill!" he said, smiling, and took a seat. "What is that? A basket?"

Runningwater showed him. "This is a Navajo basket. See, this represents mountains, and this, clouds..."

Krycek's head came up. Yes, he'd heard it: "Sharon Green"! He listened more closely. "I want you to take care of her," the big man was saying. "OK, no problem," said Nightshade. First Mahdib, now Sharon. This was too much to be borne!

He approached them, swearing quietly and intensely in Russian. "What did you say to me?" the Old Man asked. Krycek repeated himself. Spender jumped up and slapped him, then again. The look on Krycek's face made Nightshade, even such as she, cringe. Gone was the pretty softness. This face was a mask of hatred, grim mouth, blazing eyes under slanting dark brows, and as she watched, the man actually curled his lip and snarled.

"You are ill, Alexei," the boss man remarked, dragging on his Morley. "Bill, put Alex to bed and give him a sedative. At once!"

Runningwater escorted the defiant Krycek into the master bedroom. "I'll help you off with your clothes, Alexei. Sit down on the bed. Here, give me your arm."

"What is it this time?"

"It's a barbiturate."

"They can't hurt Sharon!" Krycek yelled, jumping up. "I won't let them!" Bill hung on and injected him.

"You're going to be feeling pretty damned good, pretty soon," remarked the Indian.

"Don't you get tired of being a pusher?"

Bill sighed. "Look, it's like this, Alexei. Your job right now is to be the boyfriend of this man who is the Number One gangster in the history of the world, with the exception of those who had whole countries of their own, such as Josef Stalin. Your job is therefore one of the most stressful there is, or ever has been. MY job, my sacred duty, is to help you cope, to make things easier for you. If that involves giving you prescription drugs, I have to do it. Ah! It is so hard for me! I love you both, and I want to see you both happy!"

Krycek's vision was blurring. "How can you love him?" he asked.

"We go back," he said. "He's pulled my chestnuts out of the fire before...just as he's done for you, many times, Alex."

Krycek thought of chestnuts and fires and he giggled. 

"Good, it's working," said Bill approvingly. "Here, let me help you out of those clothes. Ok. Now wear this pretty robe, Alexei, it's exactly the color of your eyes. Lie back. Good."

"He's gonna wanna fuck," said Krycek. "I'm pretty doped. What if I can't get it up?"

"You will. Think of Fox Mulder."

Krycek lay back and thought of Mulder, Mulder's lips on his, Mulder's soft warm heat when Krycek fucked him; Mulder's mouth, sliding over his cock; and he got a raging erection. When his boss found him, he was lying on his back on the bed, eyes mostly closed, long lashes trembling, with one graceful arm extended; legs spread and the tip of his cock poking out of his robe; and the man forgot completely about being angry with him and couldn't get undressed quickly enough. He slid a doubled-up pillow under Krycek's hips, lubed himself and penetrated the younger man. Krycek's beryl eyes opened and he looked directly into the older man's. "Lisitsa," he said, and moaned, and this inflamed the Old Man. Nothing, nothing in his life had ever been as good as this. He stroked the boy's cock with one lubed hand and Krycek groaned, pushing back to his thrusts. Little wild one, the man thought, stroking the boy's hair. Someday I may tame you.

"I'm..coming..Ah!" Krycek said, arched his back and shuddered, spurting over the man's hand and the bed. His contractions triggered the older man's orgasm and he cried out Krycek's name over and over.

Afterward, they lay side by side on the bed. "Why don't you ever call my name when you come?" asked the taller man.

Krycek looked at him. "Because I don't know what the fuck your name IS."

*************************************************

Mulder went to tell Sharon about the call from Krycek. He found her asleep in her room, but woke her gently anyway to tell her. She sat up, yawning. "What is it, Mulder?"

"Alex called to tell me to tell you that--"

"Oh, that Mr. Big Bad Meanie wants to attend?" She laughed. "He shall not! He may have almost murdered most of the world, he may have the feared assassin Alex Krycek in his thrall, but he has no power over me! And in addition, I know that the Deadly Nightshade seeks to harm me, on the part of this man. I tell you, she will not! Nothing she can do will hurt me at all!" She pulled her knees up to her chin under her nightgown. "I am beyond harm, Mulder, save from the One," she said softly.

"I'm glad!" he said, thought about embracing her but didn't. She held out her arms to him and he did hug her.

"Now what's this 'feared assassin' business?"

She looked at him solemnly. "Yes, that's what our Lexy is...he's killed 23 people directly, Mulder, indirectly, many more. Nothing on the scale of what the Smoking Man has done, you understand, but enough to annoy the Goddess, your God. That's why he's up there in the eagle's nest," she said, pointing south.

"Working off bad karma," said Mulder.

She nodded. "If he does, you will see such a change in him. And someday, someday Mulder, in his old age maybe, he will become a realized being. Then he will be off the cycle of birth and rebirth, forever."

He looked at her thoughtfully. "That's interesting...but in the meantime, he has to suffer. And guess what, Sharon? I get to suffer, too!"

"I know, and I am so sorry for it," she said, taking his hands and drawing him to her. "Come here, sit on the bed, I won't bite. You, too, Mulder, will become a changed and better person after this experience. I promise!"

"Am I working off bad karma, too?"

She shook her head. "No. You just got caught in the backdraft. You just happen to love this beautiful, complex man who is so loving and caring, yet is a murderer many times over. And some of those murders, Mulder, were very brutal." He looked at the floor.

"It's like..." she wrinkled her nose with the effort of thinking. "Do you know what happens when you stand in front of a jet engine?"

"You get sucked in and torn to pieces?"

"Yes. And it doesn't happen because you're a bad person. It isn't the engine's fault either. Do you see? It's just one of those things."

"Well, but," he said, "but you could make it all better by just bringing Alex back! His suffering and mine would end!"

"Would it? Do you know that the guards around the property are ordered to shoot him if he tries to escape? Don't you remember the big guy coming to claim Alex before? Next time, it will be to hurt him or kill him! THEN you would suffer, Mulder!"

"You could stop him from being shot."

"He is a chosen man and I am not permitted to change his destiny!" she cried, her soft brown eyes snapping.

"Chosen by whom?"

"By an authority greater than yours or mine! Honestly, Mulder!"

"Why does the Smoking Man hate Alex so much?"

She flipped a long lock of blonde hair back over her shoulder. "He doesn't hate him. He loves him very much, inasmuch as a man like him can love," and she shuddered.

"If he loves him, why does he want to shoot him?"

She looked at the ceiling. "Oh, he doesn't want to shoot him. He wants to be loved back more than anything in the world. But he also demands absolute fealty, perfect, unthinking loyalty, unconditional love -- all of these things he can't give back -- from his partner, or he feels betrayed. If he feels betrayed, then he wants to exact revenge. Come on, Professor Mulder!" 

He laughed. "Yeah?"

"You have a doctorate in psychology! You tell me about narcissistic and antisocial personalities! That's what we're dealing with here."

"Not just adult antisocial acts?"

She snorted. "That's a dumb diagnosis if there ever was one. It's meaningless because those who commit antisocial acts are usually antisocial, unless they're psychotic. Although sometimes, of course, they're both."

"This guy isn't psychotic, is he?"

She laughed. "Oh, no. He's got his feet planted firmly on the ground."

"Then he knows Alex doesn't love him."

"Yes. And it just kills him. He has to be satisfied with the next best thing, sex. He has sensational sex with Alex, and he has it all the time. Oops, I'm so sorry, Mulder!" she said, stroking his arm. "Please forgive me!" He looked at her, stricken.

"It's OK," he said, "Alex tells me anyway, although not in those terms. Does he enjoy it? Alex, I mean?"

She looked at her slim white hands, up at him.

"Then he does like it! Oh, Sharon, I don't want to live! I'm gonna kill myself!" he cried, distractedly. "Why do I keep asking you these questions?"

"Because you want the truth," she said softly, "and only I can give it to you. You don't really want to hurt yourself, Mulder. You just want Alex back, and I promise you, I PROMISE you, Mulder, that you will get him back."

"Sharon, are you gay?"

She giggled. "Why do you ask?"

"I never see you with a boyfriend, although I know you were married twice, right? One time to that guy who bought the farm."

"You never see me with a girlfriend, either, right?"

"Well, no," said Mulder.

"Mulder, the truth is...I'm not sexual...that is to say, all my sexual energy, the Kundalini, is channeled into higher aspirations."

"But you are so beautiful and sexy!"

"Nice compliment, especially from a gay guy!" she winked. "If anything, my looks have gotten in my way in my life, led me to make really bad decisions, to wit, marrying Jason Throughgood, Mr. Bought-the-Farm. I would have been happier to have had just average looks!"

"Why is that last sentence in the past tense?"

"Past perfect," she said. "Because my life is winding down now, Mulder. There isn't much left."

"Does this mean this'll be our first and last great heart-to-heart? Oh, Sharon, I feel so bad!"

"Don't!" she said. "Mulder, 'Tis a far, far better thing I do, than I have ever done,'"

"'Tis to a far, far better place I go, than I have ever gone,'" he said, his eyes filling with tears, then they spilled down his face and he wept openly.

She enfolded him in her embrace. "It's all right, really, Mulder."

"No it's not!" he sobbed. "I barely got to know you, and I love you, and now you are leaving us!"

"Mulder," she said, "you will have Scully, and White, and the Lone Gunmen, to comfort you! And then you will have Alex!" 

"Alex doesn't want me!" he cried, knowing that it was not so.

"Mulder, Alex wants you more than the world. He loves you with all his heart and soul! Mulder, um, I think this is a guy thing, but a guy can still enjoy sex without being in love with the person he's having the sex with. Am I right?"

"Yes," he said miserably. "But I wouldn't enjoy it with anyone but Alex."

"Mulder, um, Alex is a man with a lot of experience being gay. He's had a lot of gay partners. You, on the other hand, haven't. Alex has been your one and only."

"So, what, he can conceive of having more gay partners and I can't?"

"You know, I honestly don't think he thinks in those terms. I think he..."

"What? Just loves the one he's with?"

She nodded. "I guess you could say that. He can't be with the one he loves!"

"So when Alex complains about being fucked to death, he actually really likes it?"

Her brows knit together in concentration. "I think he's...I think he's sore...Not angry, but physically sore. That's why he complains. And because he doesn't want to be in the relationship at all, of course, and because he is a captive there. The guy slaps him around from time to time. And, no, you won't kill him, Mulder. Something really bad is going to happen to him someday."

He nodded. "OK," he said, somewhat mollified. "So, given all that, how is he enjoying the sex?"

Sharon rolled her eyes. "By having orgasms, Mulder. Isn't that how people usually enjoy it?"

The blood drained out of Mulder's face. It was just what he dreaded hearing. "My God," he said softly. "Well, that's the...the whole ...it presupposes the entire sequence of things, from arousal on."

She nodded. "It does. But don't let it bother you so much. It's not like this is a new thing, something that only happened AFTER you and Alex got together. Alex has been sleeping with this man, off and on, for the last six years. Of course Big Mean Guy knows what to do to turn Alex on!"

"Oh," he said. "Actually, it makes sense, once you put it that way. I know you've told me before, and Scully has told me lots of times, but this is the first time it's sinking in."

"I've got something else to add," Sharon said thoughtfully. "Might make you feel better about the whole thing. Alex...Alex thinks of you when he has sex with Big Bad Daddy."

Mulder couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. "He's MY Big Bad Daddy!" he said. "If..IF that's true, Sharon."

She leaned toward him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Mulder, brace yourself. Your biological father was not a mild-mannered engineer, but truly, is, to quote the woman who was once his wife, 'the biggest bastard of them all'!"

"Shit! Shit!" said Mulder fervently. "So it's true! He visited me--"

"In Cottonwood Lanes? Bearing gifts? Who do you think gave the order for you to be brainwashed into not loving Alex Krycek? Did you really think that was Scully's idea? White's? Skinner's? It came from higher up! MUCH higher up!"

"Oh, my God!" said Mulder hoarsely, looking at her.

"Yes, he's quite the manipulator! And he loves Alex with a jealous heart!"

"To do that to his own son, though?" Mulder asked.

"He shot his other son, didn't he?" said Sharon in a terrible voice. "And caused the death of his daughter, your sister!"

"Why...why is my own father such a terrible person?" Mulder asked brokenly. "Wish the guy who raised me had been my father!" 

"Oh, he was, in a sense," Sharon said. "You don't carry his genes, but he gave you a good life."

Till he was shot. Shot by Alex Krycek. Sharon looked at him. "This is what I mean about karma," she said gently.

"Why was my mother such a slut?" he asked no one in particular.

Sharon laughed. "Such a funny word; doesn't mean much. She loved him, your biological father. He's always been a compelling person, you know. She wanted to bear his children, and so she did, two beautiful children, Fox and Samantha."

Mulder looked down; a tear dropped on his hand.

"You miss her very much, Mulder," she said sympathetically. "I will tell you this: she's in a very beautiful place beyond all pain and fear. She can see you and hear you. She laughs when you laugh, and she grieves when you grieve."

More tears dripped down his face. Sharon touched his face. "You are such a sweet sensitive man! Cry if you need to!"

"I have a question," he said, "why, if he was this big ladies' man, did he turn out gay?"

She pursed her lips, shook her head. "Oh, I think he was always attracted to men, Mulder, as Alex was, as you must have been. These things have early roots. What started him acting on his impulses was..."

"Was what? The Turkish baths?"

She laughed. "No, Mulder. It was meeting Alex Krycek."

He looked at her in shock. She looked back.

"Alex is another very compelling person, isn't he? As you are, too, Mulder! I am privileged to have known such extraordinary men! All of you so bright, such strong personalities!"

He shook his head. "But what are the chances that father and son would both be gay? I mean, it's not exactly a trait that can be passed on, is it? It takes a sperm and an egg to make a human!"

"It was passed on," she said suddenly. "Gay men can impregnate women, not just straight ones! Think of all the gay men in loveless marriages; your father's was one. Think of all the lesbians who have sex with gay men so they can conceive."

"Well, then who'd think we'd get caught in this Oedipal kind of situation with father and son wanting to kill each other over a mutual lover? We shared a genetic attraction to Alex Krycek?"

She giggled. "You share a genetic attraction to men with a certain, er, androgyny factor."

"What, are you saying that Alex isn't all man? OK, Miss Smarty Pants, if everything is genetic, how come I don't smoke?"

*************************************************

While Krycek was being talked about he was lying sleepless in the arms of a man who snored heedlessly. The barbiturate had worn off, and he thought about bugging Bill Runningwater for more. It had felt pretty good. He thought about calling Mulder, but it might wake the old bastard if he got up. So he lay and contemplated the cracks in the ceiling. That one was from the Loma Prieta Earthquake, he thought, and they'd never patched it. He ought to put a poster on the ceiling as dentists' offices did. That way he'd have something to look at when he was stuck on his back.

Eventually he did decide to extricate himself from the man's grasp, wiggling carefully so as not to wake him. He went padding off in search of Bill Runningwater. Runningwater was working on his basket in the kitchen, and he looked up as Krycek approached. "Well, Alexei," he said, "can't sleep?" 

"No. That basket is beautiful, Bill!"

"Need some drugs? Is that why you're here?"

Krycek laughed. "Well, yeah, since you put it that way!"

"OK," said Runningwater. "You only have to ask, Alex. Pills or do you want me to shoot you up?"

"Shoot me up, please."

"Just a mo'," he said heading toward the back bathroom. Returning, he gave Krycek the shot. "Now, don't drink on that," he warned, "or you'll OD."

Krycek sat at the kitchen table and watched the Navajo weave his basket, and the warm, good feelings began to steal over him again. He happily rocked in his chair. "God bless you," he said to Bill, who eyed him. 

"You're pretty high, aren't you, me laddie?"

"Well, yeah," Krycek said with a silly grin. He rocked back -- and Bill couldn't catch him soon enough, and he ended up on his back, staring at the ceiling again. Runningwater looked at him and started to laugh. "Are you going to help me up?" asked an aggrieved Krycek. The Navajo gave him a hand up.

"Alex! ALEX!" called an imperious voice. "Come back to bed!"

They looked at each other. "Arf arf arf!" said Krycek and went back to bed. This time, lying in his master's arms, he was able to drift off to sleep.

When he awakened it was 6 AM and the Old Man was putting the finishing touches on his outfit, the one that looked like the 753 other outfits he owned. Krycek regarded him with one eye. "Nice," he said, "but don't you think that tie is a little outre?" His boss looked at him and laughed.

"Big day ahead, Alex. I won't be in all day till 5 or 6. When I get back, you'll be ready for me, in the delightful fashion you have been. And, oh, have a fire going in the fireplace. The nights have been getting cool."

As soon as Krycek heard the Porsche start, he picked up the phone and punched in Mulder's number.

"Ah...Mulder,"

"Mulder! It's Alex!"

"Alex! Whaddup?" he said breezily, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"Just wanted to hear your voice, lyubov, my love," he said breathily.

"Oh, Alex...it's always so good to hear from you," Mulder said. "I love you so much!"

"I love you too, my darling." Krycek heard a characteristic click and hiss and his head jerked up in alarm.

"Didn't hear me come back in, did you?" the Old Man asked, inhaling smoke. "Let me talk to Mulder." His voice was quiet and steady but blue-steel rage glittered in his eyes. Krycek handed him the phone with a nerveless hand.

"Fox, is that you?" he asked softly.

Crap, thought Mulder. Crap, crap, crap. "Yeah, Dad," he said.

The CSM snorted with laughter. "Fox, you know you shouldn't be doing this. You get Alex in trouble, and you don't want to do that, do you?" he asked, stroking Krycek's hair.

"Fuck you," said Mulder conversationally.

"Show some respect, Fox. This is your father you're talking to. The man who gave you life!"

"You're a pathetic old man who's jealous of his own son."

The Smoking Man took another drag on his Morley. "Hand me that ashtray, Alex. Thank you! Now, Fox. I don't expect you to understand these things, but some situations are to a higher purpose. Alex stays with me. He is not to see you, nor to talk to you. Don't call him, and don't accept his calls. He is mine, and mine alone. Is that clear?"

"What's clear, you old bastard, is that Alex doesn't love you. Why else would he be calling me?"

The stroking hand tightened in Krycek's hair. "This conversation is over," he said. "Now you," he said, dragging the unwilling Krycek's face around to meet his gaze, "are in trouble. Stand up, Alex!"

Krycek stood up and looked steadily into the man's eyes. The first blow came on the left side of his face; the second on the right, each one marking him with the imprint of the emerald ring the man wore on his right hand.

"Clean yourself up, Alex, your nose is bleeding," he said casually. Krycek walked into the bathroom and washed his face. When he came out the Old Man was unzipped and he looked ready for bear. "Take your robe off and bend over the bed," he said.

Krycek did as he was told. The man knelt behind him and penetrated him roughly, causing pain. "You're mine," he remarked, thrusting into Krycek, "Mine! Don't...forget...that...Alex!"

Krycek noted dismally that he had a hard-on, and that the rubbing across the comforter was proving to be very stimulating. He was headed for another orgasm with this hated man.

"When you come," panted the Old Man, "I want you to use that word!"

"Lisitsa?" gasped Krycek.

"No. The new one."

"Lyubov?" he asked miserably.

"Yes! Say it! Say..it!"

Krycek squeezed his eyes shut very tightly and thought of Mulder. "Lyubov, my love," he said. "Ah!...Lyubov! My love!" he said, shuddering and coming on the comforter. His orgasm stimulated the Old Man's, who banged into Krycek, yelling, "Alex! Alex!"

The man stood up. "Hand me that towel, Alex. Thank you. I have to go...You can have two hours outside today, with a guard or Bill Runningwater."

"Ok, thank you," he said dully. He sat on the bed and stared at the floor while the man left. Then he went to the back bedroom and fished his stiletto out of a chest full of similar items of murder and torture. He twisted his hand around and made two, three quick cuts on his arm, each about eight inches long. He staggered to the bed and sat down, bleeding.

"Alexei!" called Bill Runningwater, looking for him in the master bedroom and not finding him. "Alexei! Al-- oh, Alex, what have you done?" he said sorrowfully, running to the bleeding man. He looked at the cuts. "These aren't too deep, I can suture them, but oh, Alexei!" and he gathered Krycek to him. "Can you walk to the bathroom?"

Krycek nodded. Runningwater helped him to the bathroom and sat him down. "I'll have to call the Old Man about this. He'll hit the roof!" he said, shaking his head. "Here, let me clean your wounds, Alexei. Now this is alcohol; it will sting. Now...I'm giving you xylocaine." Runningwater sutured the cuts, applied antibiotic salve, and bandaged Krycek's arm. Then, without asking, he administered a potent sedative.

Oh God. He dreaded this call to the Old Man. He punched in the number. "Yes?" a voice asked, curtly.

"Sir, Alex cut his wrist with a knife...Yes, he's OK. I cleaned it up and he's sutured and all...no, he doesn't...I understand, no emergency room...that's fine if you want a doctor to come in, and I think he needs a psychiatrist as well. He's pretty depressed...I don't know...He needs a lot of love, Boss...No, I don't think he will...he's sedated...Yes, of course I'll take care of him."

He returned to Krycek, who was curled up on the loveseat watching him. "Baby," he said, "we're getting help for you."

"There's only one kind of help I need," said Krycek.

Runningwater took his hand. "Oh, you are so dear to me!" he said, and shed a tear. "And not just to me, Alex! So many people love you! How much poorer the world would be without you in it!"

"Even though I'm a murderer?"

The Navajo shook his head. "Only because he made you so."

Krycek looked at him. "He is a monster and I am stuck with him in this endless nightmare."

"'Nightmare,' Alexei? Tunguska was a nightmare. Alien possession was a nightmare. You have a lovely lifestyle here, expensive clothes and jewelry, gourmet food at every meal, a fancy new car.."

"Yeah, which I can't even drive!"

"But you'll get to drive it, soon enough. Don't be so negative, Alexei!"

"He punched me in the face a couple times this morning. Don't you see the bruises?"

"Weren't you doing something you'd been expressly forbidden to do?"

"Well, I should be allowed to talk to Mulder, for Chrissake! Why do I get hit for every last little thing?"

"That's how he expresses anger. He is SO JEALOUS, Alexei. You really need to get that!"

"I've got it," said Krycek softly.

"Look," said Runningwater, standing up, "let's get you washed and dressed...you can take a bath...how about that green shirt you like, with jeans?"

"Sit with me, Bill, please," said Krycek, tears glistening in his eyes.

Later, he sat curled up on the loveseat, listening to Dvorak and reading Le Rouge et le Noir. His friend built a fire in the fireplace.

*************************************************

The Steamer's folks were all in the great Forest, putting up the canopy, talking and laughing excitedly. White was directing the operations. "Pull the canvas over to the left...no, your other left! OK! Sharon, where do you want people to sit? Should we just bring pillows for them to sit on? And where are you sitting?"

"Um, I'm standing, actually," she said. "Right there," and she pointed.

"Are we gonna need a podium for you?"

"No, just a small table that I can set up my altar on. A card table, or something like that."

White nodded. "No problem!"

"Mulder, this is wobbly!" called Scully, struggling with a tent pole.

The Lone Gunmen were engaged in setting up a small public address system attached to a generator. "Your voice will really carry when we get this all hooked up," said Byers proudly. Sharon nodded. "Thank you! Just a sec," she said, stepping back a little.

She'd been aware of his presence, of course, for some time. Now, as she pulled out a Marlboro and put it between her lips, he stepped forward. "Need a light?" he asked.

*************************************************

Mahdib received the call while eating in the coffeeshop of the Red Lion Inn. "Yes? Oh, hi. Yeah, well, remember, I had to think about it...Because I like to live, you know?..How much? Well, I will consider it...OK, I'll do it." Shaking her head, she returned her cell phone to her handbag. She had to be crazy. She HAD to be crazy. She'd be at that meeting with Nightshade right there, armed to the teeth. It was tantamount to suicide. But a cool mil -- it almost seemed worth it. Maybe she could ambush Nightshade somehow.

Or maybe not. Nightshade was so bright and so vigilant. She would notice anything wrong, and act accordingly. Mahdib had to come up with a plan. She chewed her turkey sandwich thoughtfully, thinking.

*************************************************

"No, I don't need a light," she said crisply, "You go on home before I send you home! You're not wanted here." She glanced anxiously in Mulder's direction, hoping he hadn't spotted the man.

He laughed softly. "Mulder doesn't know I'm here," he said, lighting a cigarette.

"I know what you want!" she said rudely and directly. "Where's your Nightshade? Shouldn't she be doing your spying for you?" 

"Oh, she'll be around later."

"Good. I'll be ready for her. I know that you still want me to join forces with you, and I tell you I won't." Oh-oh, she said to herself. Mulder was on his way over, fast.

"You go!" she said loudly to the Smoking Man, touching his shoulder, and he vanished.

Mulder pulled up short. "Oh, gee thanks, Sharon! I was all set to beat the crap out of him!"

"I know. Why do you think I sent him home? Anyway, Alex needs him."

"Why? What does he need him for? What's wrong with Alex, Sharon?"

She looked down. "I shouldn't tell you."

"Tell me!"

"After you talked to him, the Old Man hit him. Then Alex tried to kill himself."

"OH SHIT. Is he all right?" he gasped.

"He's fine," she said, touching Mulder's hand. "Don't worry about him! Some lacerations, which his friend stitched."

"This is too much!" Mulder said. "Next time I see that old bastard he's really gonna get it. I'll shoot him!"

"You and how many others?" she asked drily.

*************************************************

One moment he was talking to Sharon, the next he was in his own driveway. Those parlor tricks of Rose of Sharon's were pretty good. He stalked into the house. "Alexei!" he called.

He found Krycek curled up on the loveseat, dozing. The boy's arm was bandaged and a book had fallen out of his hand onto the floor. The Old Man replaced it on the shelf and shook Krycek gently. "Alex," he said.

Krycek's large luminous eyes opened and looked up into his. "I didn't do it!" he said

The man laughed. "Didn't do what? I'm not angry with you, Alex. I just wanted to see whether you were all right."

"I'm all right," he said flatly.

The Old Man sat down next to him, taking his hand. "Alexei, you are very dear to me and I would hate to see anything happen to you. Promise me you'll never, ever do anything like this again. Sometimes, Alex, when you break the rules, I'm compelled to punish you. You do understand, don't you?"

Krycek nodded.

"Good! Now give me a kiss!" Krycek rose obediently and kissed him deeply.

"Alex, you are such a distraction!" the man said, when they'd come up for air. "How can one man be so sexy!" He embraced Krycek, and the young man could feel his erection. Oh Christ, he thought. Here we go again. Wish Bill would give him something to keep him soft.

"Alex, I want to make love to you now, so badly, but the doctor will be arriving shortly. If he asks you questions, you let me answer, all right?"

Krycek nodded. Wonder what whopper he's gonna tell about the marks on my face.

There came a knock at the door, and Dr. Rheingold was greeted. He was a tall, rather handsome man in his 40's, who looked at Krycek sharply, the bruised face, the missing arm, the bandaged wrist, and he shook his head. This man had been through a lot. "How did he get these?" the doctor asked, indicating the bruises.

"He fell down the stairs," said the older man nonchalantly, dragging on a cigarette. "Didn't you, Alexei?"

Krycek nodded. 

"And what happened to the arm?"

"It was lost in an accident in another country." said the Smoking Man.

"What about your right arm?"

"I-I cut myself with a stiletto."

"How do you happen to have something like that lying around?"

"It's part of his collection of exotic ornamental knives," the Smoking Man said smoothly.

"Hmm. Very well-sutured. This was done by a surgeon?"

"No, by our vet," the younger man said. The doctor chuckled. 

"I guess some skills are transferable. Now, Mr. Krycek, you don't have any other thoughts of hurting yourself, do you?"

"Oh, no," he said, shaking his head.

"OK, I'm going to leave some antibiotics for you, and start you on Prozac; you seem very depressed. Now, do you ever have any periods where you feel extra good?" Only when I'm with Mulder. 

"No."

"OK. The Prozac should help you, then. Good luck, Mr. Krycek."

"Thank you."

The Old Man wrote a check to the doctor and pocketed the pills. "Bill will give these to you when you need them, Alex."

Krycek looked at him and started to cry. "Oh, don't --" he said. "C'mere, Alex!" Krycek went to him and was enfolded in his arms.

The doctor, on his way out, glanced back. Oh. So. These two were engaged in a homosexual relationship. And such a difference in age. Well, this was Santa Cruz, after all. He thought briefly of the marks on the younger man's face. Each of these men, he'd observed, had been wearing a substantial, matching emerald ring on his right hand. Well, so, the old guy slapped the young guy around. And yet held him in some kind of thrall. Interesting, and possibly even tragic, but not his business, he decided, walking up the driveway.

*************************************************

Nightshade made a side trip to a Wicca shop in Capitola and purchased there a purple robe. Purple, the color of spirituality. Yeah, and she was so spiritual. It was a chuckle.

The clerk, an attractive blonde of middle years, eyed Nightshade. She saw a tanned, very pretty young woman with a mane of curly blonde hair, dressed in jeans, sandals and a pink maillot with a jeans jacket, typical beach bunny, she thought. "Is this for any particular ceremony?" she asked, in a friendly way. 

"No, just for my own use," Nightshade answered.

"You're a Solitary? You know, there's a ceremony--"

Yeah. Tomorrow night at seven, in the Forest of Nicene Marks.

"Tomorrow night at seven, in the Forest of Nicene Marks. All Wiccans are invited to attend. It's supposed to be vitally important; I don't know just why. It's being officiated by a great Priestess."

Nightshade nodded. "I'd heard something to that effect," she said.

"Well, Ms. Shields," the clerk said, sliding her credit card, "You're certainly welcome. The more, the merrier, you know? The fate of the world hangs in the balance," she said dramatically. Nightshade nodded. "Yes, I understand. I will be there," she said solemnly. 

"Look, here's my card," the woman persisted. "Give me a call sometime. Maybe we can have coffee." 

She flashed the woman a brilliant smile and went out. Another queer, she thought, boy, this place is full of 'em. She stopped for a latte and sipped it out on the terrace at Travertine, overlooking the Capitola Beach. A big muscle boy carrying a towel under one arm sidled up to her and asked her if she'd like a drink. "I don't drink," she said pleasantly.

"Well, then, want some lunch?"

I don't eat, either, she thought irritably. "I'm gay," she said, on sudden inspiration, smiling at him over her latte.

"What, a good-looking woman like you? I don't believe that!"

"All right. But if I fuck you, I have to kill you," she said calmly.

The young man snorted. "You are too much! But you're too pretty to pass up. Here," he said, seating himself on the ledge, "let's just talk."

"That isn't all you want, is it? To 'just talk'?"

"Let's start with names. I'm Brian, and you are--"

"Susan, Sue Shields."

"That's a nice name. Alliterative."

She smirked. "And so your last name is what? Boru?"

"Ha ha, very funny. It's Johansen."

Johansen. Johansen. Where had she heard that name before?

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Johansen," she said, extending her hand. "What do you do besides hang out on the beach in your ... outfit...." eyeing his small blue Speedo... and tan?"

"I might ask the same thing about you, Ms. Shields."

She smiled, draining her latte. "Touche. I'm independently wealthy," she said, "I can pretty much do what I want."

He nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Who do you work for?" she asked, inspecting a mole on her right hand. "No one in particular. I just work here and there, doing this and that. Who do YOU work for?"

She sighed irritably. "I told you, no one. Some people are just lucky that way."

"Is this Mr. No One about -- " she went on Defcon Three -- " 6 and 1/2 feet tall?"

She sprang catlike to her feet. "The only reason you're not dead right this second," she said furiously, "is because we are on a public beach! But I will track you down, and I will kill you!"

He smirked. "You're running out of time, Nightshade. And so is he."

Her hand went to her waistband. "Uh-uh-uh," he said, wagging a finger at her. "Public beach, remember? And I've got a gun too," he said, indicating his bundle. "You can't win this. You're a loser, Nightshade, and you're losing."

"Are you Consortium or FBI?" she ground out.

"Who said I'm either?"

"You are, you're FBI! Then you are a rebel," she said, "because he controls the FBI too."

"Not all of it, he doesn't," he remarked pleasantly. "He can't see all, or do all. And the longer he spends up in his little love nest, the less he sees or does but Alex Krycek."

It was true. But how did he know this? She looked at him speculatively, and he laughed. "Oh, it's common knowledge, practically," he said carelessly. "What have you got in the bag?"

"Nothing," she said, clutching it defensively. He peeked inside. "It's a robe. So you are planning to attend the ceremony? I wouldn't."

"Why not?" she asked tightly.

"Because you'll probably die, Nightshade."

"I'm armed for Chrissake."

He shook his head. "That's not what I mean."

A beach ball came bouncing over the wall and a little girl ran up shrieking. Brian picked it up and threw it back to her, and the girl went squealing back to her mother.

"You won't tell me what you mean."

"No. But if you die," his gaze raked her up and down, "it's a waste of a beautiful woman. I do have an eye for a girl, you know."

"Ah geez, I'll say ten Hail Marys thanking the Lord that you're straight."

He laughed. "I'm just warning you," he said, walking away. "Take heed!"

She watched him walk down the beach, hopped the ledge and tailed him a little way, but he made a right turn into another restaurant and she lost him. Well, he'd probably be at the ceremony. Then woe to him.

*************************************************

The Old Man had the younger man on the couch and then they fell asleep there. Bill Runningwater sat putting the finishing touches on his basket. There was a knock at the front door, low and urgent.

He went to answer it. A young woman of surpassing beauty, wearing jeans and a cotton sweater, stood there, holding a cardboard box. "Sharon?" he asked in astonishment. "Come in! But be quiet!" She walked in, seeing at once the couple on the couch; the expression on her face was unreadable, a mixture of gravity, sorrow and resignation.

"Here!" she whispered. "This is for Lexy! To wear tomorrow. Put it somewhere. He won't find it," she said, jerking her head in the direction of the livingroom.

"Won't you stay for some lunch or something?"

She shook her head. "I can't. That's a beautiful basket, Bill!"

"Do you think so? Do you want it for an offerings basket?"

She smiled and kissed him. "I'd love it! You are too kind! Bill, you are certainly invited to the ceremony tomorrow, as a guest of honor. Wear your Navajo tribal costume."

"Won't the Old Man object? Think something's up? Shouldn't I stay here and keep him company?"

"Well, he'll be asleep. It'll be up to you. At around 5 I will come and get Lexy. That will before the 'Smoking Man' decides he'd better leave," and she suddenly collapsed in giggles, having to put her head down on the table.

"What's so funny?"

"You guys, with your Old Mans, Smoking Mans, CSMs, like he didn't have a name! Not even Lexy knows it!"

"Oh, but you do?"

"Of course! Now, Great Spirit keep you both! I'll see you tomorrow!" she left out the front door. Bill Runningwater, looking, didn't see her Miata.

"Bill, who was that?" The Old Man called. 

"No one." he said. "The Welcome Wagon."

"No one? The Welcome Wagon? "

Oh, geez. "Do you want lunch?"

"Not hungry. Help me get Alexei to bed."

Krycek was pretty drowsy and had to be carried to bed. "OK," said the Smoking Man. "Help me roll him over."

"Oh, sheesh!" said Bill Runningwater.

*************************************************

Mahdib Abdul, aka Scimitar, stood addressing the Consortium in a crowded suite hotel room in Santa Cruz.

"I ran because I was unable to kill Nightshade, and I knew Spender's people would be back with more firepower. In a conversation I'd had earlier with Fox Mulder, he'd advised me to lose myself in San Jose to evade detection, and so I have."

"We have the address. We traced the call, of course," said The First Elder, sipping his rum and Campari. "And if we have, they probably have, as well."

"That could be," she said, "although no one has yet bothered me. Perhaps I should change my address yet again and call only from my cell phone."

"Which can also be traced," The First Elder remarked. "Mahdib, you should be more careful. You are up against the second-best assassin in the business. Actually, the best, because #1 is worthless."

She looked down and her face colored slightly.

"Yes, we know you were sweet on Alex Krycek." said the Well-Manicured Man, lighting a cigarette. "Maybe you still are, hmm? Now THAT'S a losing proposition," he said, laughing.

"I'm not. Mr. Krycek is still a friend of mine."

"Enough to cause you to mess this mission up? Mahdib, you can't let your personal feelings interfere with it."

"I won't." She said. "I'm a professional."

The WMM looked at her narrowly. "Time is running out on us. You're the best we have. You must go to that meeting and do as we've agreed. You must not let Nightshade gain the upper hand! She will take it if she can. She's being paid by Spender but she is working for herself. He doesn't realize her treachery, because his brain is addled by his boy-toy."

She nodded. "I understand perfectly. Do I have permission to shoot Spender too?" she asked.

The First Elder choked back a laugh. "Shoot anyone you want," he said.

*************************************************

"Think that's good enough?" Scully asked, stepping back to look at the pavilion.

Mulder chewed a sunflower seed moodily and spat the hull on the forest floor. "It's fine." he said.

"But?"

"Not buts."

"What's the matter, Mulder?"

"I almost had him," he said bitterly. "He was right there, talking to Sharon, and then he just disappeared!"

Scully sighed. "Guess it wasn't in the cards, then. We've been telling you, haven't we, that you're not to harm him? Patricide is not a cool thing, Mulder."

He chewed another seed, glaring.

"Mulder. Look. The great ceremony is tomorrow. You know what that means. You and Alex will be together. I mean, really BE together, Mulder."

"Yeah, OK."

"You don't sound excited about it. It will be the greatest moment of your life!"

"Yeah, IF."

"If what?"

"If he still likes me, loves me."

"Oh, you Doubting Thomas! Hasn't Sharon told you he loves you to pieces?"

"Yeah, she did. But I still wonder. He's being fucked to death by my...father...you'd think there'd be affectionate feelings forming."

Scully rolled her eyes. "He is a PRISONER, Mulder! That man holds him captive up there! How can you possibly think he loves him?"

"That Stockholm Syndrome..."

"Why do you think he calls you every chance he gets? He loves you, Mulder! Wait till you see the look in his eyes when he sees you!"

Another seed went in. "OK."

"Has Sharon given you your robe yet?"

"Yeah, why is it red? I feel like a whore!"

She laughed. "She said red is the Mars color, the God color. The color of passion. She went to give Alex his."

Pretty soon Sharon came ambling toward them.

"Did you see Alex?" Mulder asked her.

"He was asleep," she said briefly.

"What, in his arms?" he said, feeling a big stab of jealousy.

She sighed. "Mulder. You've just got to take it easy. Tomorrow night will be the greatest of your life. Take it on faith! And Mulder," she said.

"What?"

"You must relinquish these thoughts of harming your father!"

"Yeah, Scully said the same thing. He won't be at the ceremony, will he?" he asked anxiously.

Sharon looked at him. "What, am I stupid?"

*************************************************

Midway through his slumber, Krycek began to awaken. Someone was with him. "Mulder," he murmured. "That feels good." A wave of intense pleasure shook him, and he came all over the bed. Then the man who was fucking him came. "Can Mulder make you feel this good?" he asked conversationally, afterward.

Yes. Better. "No," he lied.

"That's my Alexei!" the man said, and hugged him. "Listen, Alex, I have to go out again."

"What's up?"

"Nothing you should be concerned with. You haven't had your two hours out yet. Get Bill Runningwater to take you out to pet your horses."

"OK."

"And Alexei...don't do anything to try to hurt yourself again, OK? It's upsetting."

Krycek went out to look at the horses with Bill. "You've been grooming them," he said approvingly. "Thank you!"

Runningwater shook his head. "It's my job."

"Well, they look beautiful...hey Diablo, hey Guardian...hey, could we ride 'em?"

"Well, the boss says I have to ride Guardian so you can't escape, Alexei. And I can't see myself up on that big racer," he said, eyeing the blood-bay stallion.

"Well, reframe the situation then," Krycek said. "You get an opportunity to ride the 1998 Two-Year-Old Horse of the Year. How many people do? He was the fastest Thoroughbred in the world."

"Hm. Speaking of that, did you ever stop to think why the Boss bought this valuable racehorse? Do you have any idea of how much he cost? And of how much the Old Man could have made in stud fees? He bought him for you, Alexei, because you admired him."

*************************************************

At long last, they had the pavilion set up, public address system, chairs and pillows, and all. Sharon said she'd bring her altar stuff tomorrow.

"What kind of stuff is it?" Scully asked her curiously.

"Oh, candles and stuff. Four quarter candles, to represent the four directions. A God and Goddess candle. My wand, pentacle, goblet and athame. Natural objects, wheat, pine cones and such, to represent the God and Goddess. A picture of the Virgin Mary. Incense."

"Wow!" Scully said. "What is an athame?"

"It's my ceremonial dagger. Don't worry, I won't be hurting anyone with it!" she laughed, seeing the expression on Scully's face.

"You won't be, uh, having any sacrifices or anything, will you?" Scully asked anxiously.

"No, no, Scully! It's really very beautiful. You'll see!"

"Why am I wearing a green robe?"

"Because you are a healer, and that is your ceremonial color. Anyway, it'll look pretty with your red hair."

"But you'll be wearing white?"

"Yes, as High Priestess, I am expected to. Scully, Scully! I can tell you are troubled. Don't fear! You will be safe, I promise you!"

"When are you picking up Alex, and how are you going to manage that?"

"I'll get him around 5, and I'll use all my resources to get him, and then get him back, safely. The guards and the Smoking Man won't know what hit them!"

"You're gonna kill him?" asked Scully hopefully.

"No! I don't hurt people!" Sharon said sternly. "I will just put him to sleep for a while."

"Wish you'd put him to sleep forever," said Scully.

*************************************************

Afternoon was lengthening into evening when Nightshade paid a visit to the ceremonial site at the Forest of Nicene. She looked around at the pavilion. Hm. They'd done a pretty nice job. No, she wasn't going to destroy it. It was necessary to the ceremony, and the ceremony was required for her to seize Power.

Leaning against a giant Sequoia, she was soon joined by a very tall man, wearing a black trenchcoat, who pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Don't you worry about lung cancer?" she asked, annoyed.

He laughed. "I've had it. I was cured. End of story. And you are very insolent," he added.

"I'm not under your thumb like your boy-toy. Sir."

"It's not for you to comment on our relationship!" he thundered. "I will take you off the case if you continue in this vein, Barbara."

"No, you won't. You need me." And I don't need you, she thought.

He stubbed out his cigarette on a tree and lit another. "Do you have any news for me?" he asked.

"Scimitar went into hiding."

"Yes, I know that. Because you failed to kill her."

She grimaced. "She shot me with an AK-47. My arm still hurts pretty badly."

"Poor baby," he said, looking at her through a haze of smoke. "If you fuck this one up, that's it, Barbara."

"What?" she asked scornfully, shaking her curly mane. "You'll sic your boyfriend on me? I'm so scared!"

"Alex will take care of things, or I will handle the job myself," he said quietly, puffing on his Morley.

*************************************************

"Krycek."

"Lexy, this is Sharon."

"Rose of Sharon! How are you?"

"I'm fine...a little nervous, but that's OK. How are you?"

"I'm all right...the Old Man's out right now." Bill Runningwater glanced up warningly from the kitchen. "Oh, Bill's giving me a dirty look...I guess I'm not supposed to be talking to you."

"You will come to no harm from this. There's someone who wants to talk to you."

"Alex?"

"Mulder! Oh, my love! I can't wait till tomorrow!"

"Me either! I'm so excited!"

"Mulder, I have to ask you a question."

"Shoot!"

"Um, are you still gonna want me, after I've been with another man?"

"Want you! Always and forever!"

"I mean, you know, um..."

There was a hasty conversation on the other end. "Sharon says just take a bath, she'll take care of the rest."

Krycek felt his cheeks coloring. "OK. How embarrassing!"

Sharon picked up the extension. "Nothing is embarrassing to the Goddess! Do you know what she says? 'All acts of love and pleasure are my rituals.' That's why the Great Rite is so powerful. It is THE ritual. And it is made more powerful still if the participants are in love with each other. You two are more in love than any other people I've ever known."

"Wow!" Mulder and Krycek said, together.

"So don't worry...everything's all set. We'll bring a couple of blankets for you, so you'll be more or less comfortable."

"Why out in the woods, anyway?" Krycek asked.

"Because of the power of Nature. These rituals are held out-of-doors as frequently as possible. Because the rainy season will start early, tomorrow, we'll have the pavilion...you two might get wet, but I doubt you will notice it...the rain will rise in steam from you!"

"And will I really have to return to ...him..?" asked Krycek.

"Yes, Alexei, I'm so sorry but you will," she said gently.

"He hits me, and I tried to kill myself."

"I know that," she sighed. "And I hate it, with all my heart and all my soul. But for now, it is your destiny."

"How do you know? Do these gods and goddesses speak to you, tell you these things?"

"Sometimes, particularly Mari...but sometimes I just know things, Alex. You must trust me. And trust me that no permanent harm will come to you...in fact, Alexei, something really wonderful is going to be happening to you, after I have departed, but soon. Something that would not have happened, had you not been in this relationship. You need this man."

"This is all pretty airy-fairy to me," Krycek said. "Tell me. Give me a concrete example of 'something wonderful.'"

"I cannot, and don't try to guess!"

"When do Alex and I get hooked back up, boyfriend-boyfriend?" Mulder asked hopefully.

"I know not the hour," she said gravely. "I just know that it will happen. Have some faith!"

"I was never one for religion," said Mulder. 

"Me neither," added Krycek.

"You guys!" said Sharon, laughing.

A key turned in the front door lock, and Krycek hissed, "he's back! I've got to go! Kiss, kiss to both of you!"

He replaced the handset just in time to see his Lord and Master enter the room, looking grim.

"What's the matter?" asked Bill Runningwater, getting up to take his coat.

"I fear my best operative has become disloyal."

"Who, Nightshade?"

The man nodded. "What's for dinner, Bill?"

"Chili, onion flower, chips, salsa, Margaritas."

"Sounds good," he said, crossing the room to Krycek and kissing him. 

"There's no dessert, I'm afraid," said the Navajo.

"I've got my dessert," said the Smoking Man, looking at Krycek.

"Will you kill her? I hate that bitch!" Krycek blurted out.

The CSM looked at him in surprise. "So lippy, Alex! Yes, I know you don't much like Nightshade. She isn't a very nice person, is she? Don't worry, if she screws this up she's dead dog meat, darling. But in the meantime, don't try to interfere."

"Have a Margarita, Alex," Runningwater offered, and he took it. 

"Mm, just the right amount of Triple Sec," he said. He drank his fourth at dinner and then dimly remembered being helped down the hall and out of his clothes. He, his mind, his essence, floated up around on the ceiling. Then the Smoking Man did things to his body that made him feel very good, and he climaxed, and thereafter he was sad, because he'd been unfaithful to Fox Mulder, but it didn't matter, none of it mattered, because he was so very, very drunk.

*************************************************

Scully lay in bed next to White, counting down the small hours of the morning. She'd paid him a visit last night and they'd made love for hours, and it was very welcome, because they hadn't for weeks. She kissed his cheek now, quiet in repose. "I love you," she whispered. She reflected on how very fortunate she was to be with her man, the one she loved, and how sad, how painful it must be for Mulder and Krycek to be separated; for Krycek to be trapped, imprisoned in an abusive relationship. "Poor Mulder. Poor Alex," she said quietly to the ceiling. She had some idea of how Mulder felt, and could only guess at the agony of Alex Krycek, the consummate survivor who had yet made two attempts on his own life because of his treatment at the hands of his dark master.

In the next room, Sharon was also awake, praying and keeping watch in the darkness. "Mari, I petition thee. You know about sacrifice. I pray that things go as smoothly as they might. I pray that He does not tempt me. I pray that You take this demon within me. I pray also for the welfare of my friends, especially the suffering ones, my Lady. After I am gone, I ask thy guidance for them, for all of them, but especially my poor Lexy, thy child, lost in the dark and looking for thee, though he knows it not. Oh, Lady, protect him!"

Mulder lay sleepless in the bed he had shared with Krycek. "Alex," he whispered now and again, and his hand would stray to his erect cock. He could hardly wait. He so wanted to be kissing Alex all over his body at this very moment, wanted to feel Alex on him, in him, but he should wait...maybe it would dissipate the precious energy or something. Then he had a brief vision of Sharon, sitting in a golden throne. "All acts of love or pleasure are my rituals!" she said, and the vision dissipated. He started stroking himself in earnest then, thinking of Alex, his hands, his lips on his cock...himself, buried in Alex's heat...Alex fucking him, and he came violently, shooting so hard he hit himself in the face.

*************************************************

"Langly," said a voice in the Lone Gunmen's room.

"Frohike."

"Scared about tomorrow?"

"Naw. Some magic tricks, some hocus-pocus and Mulder doing it with Krycek...God, I hope they do it somewhere where I can't see 'em!"

Byers guffawed. "Feel threatened by a homosexual relationship, Langly?"

"No, I just find it repulsive."

"I do too, I'm afraid," said Frohike. "I would've thought Mulder would've gotten it together with Scully...well, he's lost her now."

"And so have you," Langly remarked pertly.

By the light of a nightlight made in the shape of a character from a Fox network science-fiction show, Frohike glared at Langly, the dim light glancing off his glasses.

"Gee, he had that Diana Fowley chick friend," went on Langly, unheeding. "Whatever happened to her?"

"You don't know? She was found shot."

"Oh, who shot her?"

"It's not known for sure," said Byers, "but it was probably either Krycek or the Smoking Man."

"Well, they're kind of joined at the hip anyway, aren't they?"

Silence. Frohike trying to suppress a giggle.

"Langly," said Byers severely, "that was in REALLY poor taste! Poor Krycek can't help his situation! How would you like to sleep with that guy night after night?"

"Hell, I wouldn't want to sleep with KRYCEK night after night! Talk about a huge pain in the ass!"

Frohike couldn't hold out any longer, and collapsed in giggles.

"You guys. Show a little maturity, not to mention tolerance, here! How are you going to handle yourselves at the ceremony? Sharon is counting on you!" Byers said sternly.

"Well, we're getting it all out now, so we won't be laughing at the ceremony," Frohike explained.

"OK. Remember, a person's sexual orientation should have no bearing on the kind, the quality of person they are. And it isn't a joking matter. What if Krycek and Mulder made fun of heterosexuals and the kind of sex they have? They could make it sound pretty funny, and pretty disgusting, believe me!"

"Yeah, but it's natural," said Langly. "What they are is unnatural."

"Not at all. They don't do anything that heterosexual men and women don't do. The only difference is that female genitalia aren't involved. Unless, of course, they're lesbians."

"Lesbians I can handle," Frohike said. "But gay men -- that's too gross for words!"

"You can look at Mulder and Krycek and say that's gross? What they have is a beautiful relationship. They are madly, wildly in love with each other, so much so that they make the vast majority of heterosexual couples look tame and blah in comparison."

"How can he do it with that evil old dude, then, the Smoking Man?" asked Langly.

Byers laughed. "He does it because he'd better do it! Krycek is a survivor! And he probably feels a little affection for the old guy, I wouldn't be at all surprised. They've been together for six years now, remember?"

Frohike asked, "Isn't there something sick about Krycek sleeping with both the father and the son?"

"Yes," said Byers, "there is, and the sick party isn't Krycek."

"You're saying it's Mulder?"

"Oh, no. I'm not saying that. Who had the information that Mulder and Spender were father and son for years before Mulder did? Yeah, exactly."

"He knew Mulder was his son when he tried to blow him up in that boxcar?"

"You know, I don't think he did. Or he wasn't sure. Mulder doesn't have any physical resemblance to him, except for the fact that he's quite tall, of course. He looks like the mother, as apparently the sister did too."

"Well, how did he find out then?"

"Oh, duh, Frohike!" said Langly.

"Yeah, that was kind of a duh," said Byers, laughing. "He must have had a genetic test conducted...and after that, I guess, was always looking out for Mulder's welfare, even when he was thwarting his investigations."

"So he got two children on this woman who was married to another man...I've heard of such things happening. God, wonder how Bill Mulder felt?" Frohike asked.

"One wonders even whether he knew at all. Let's hope he never knew."

"He's dead," said Frohike, "killed by Krycek, working for the Smoking Man...this is beginning to sound like the world's WORST soap opera."

Langly unwrapped a sucker and popped it in his mouth. "The Smoking Man...let's not forget Diana Fowley. He allegedly had her after Mulder did. The guy had like the world's strongest sex drive. Still has," and he pulled the sucker out to inspect it.

Frohike giggled. "You're right. At least he hasn't made Krycek have a baby!"

Even Byers laughed. "You guys. You're too much. Look," he said. "If, God forbid, something happens to any of us as a result of the proceedings at the ceremony, I want you to know that you've both been the best friends anyone could ever hope to have. We've shared some adventures, haven't we?"

"Yes," said Frohike, "and I feel the same way about you two."

The sucker went in. "Don't go getting gay on me, Frohike," Langly said in irritation. "All right, all right! I feel the same way!"

*************************************************

David White slept but dreamed of a beautiful queen on a throne who was granting wishes to petitioners. When it came time for him to approach her, he bowed low and found himself wishing, "I want Scully to get pregnant. By me, of course." The fair queen, long blonde locks arranged about her dress like a cloak, touched him with her wand. "As you wish, so shall it be, but remember these things take time," she said gravely. He woke up with Scully snuggled against him. "Are you awake?" he asked. 

"Yes," she said, touching his face.

"Do you want to do something about it?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes," she said, and ran a hand down his pajama bottom.

*************************************************

Alex Krycek couldn't sleep a wink. He was so very nervous about tomorrow. Well, actually, today now. It didn't help that the Old Man snored, either. He pulled gently out of his arms and went and knocked on Bill Runningwater's door.

"Alexei! What is it?" the Navajo chief was making a clay pot at his desk.

"More arts and crafts?" Krycek asked.

"Do you want drugs again?"

"Please. I can't sleep!"

"You poor boy! OK, here, I'll get you something," and he returned with a syringe. 

"What's tonight's special?"

"It's alprazolam," Bill said, injecting him quickly. "I think you're due for an antibiotic, too, Alex. Here. I'll get you a glass of water."

"Thanks. Can I sit on your bed and watch you make that pot?"

"You may, but don't fall asleep in my bed, or there'll be hell to pay."

Krycek giggled. "So tell me, Bill."

"Yeah hm?"

"Are you in love with me?"

Runningwater sat up and straightened his braid. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you'd never tell me."

"Alex, look at you. Even with your bruises you're transcendently beautiful. You may even be the handsomest man in the world, although you don't see yourself that way. I've told you before that half the world's population is in love with you. Does that answer your question?"

"What, I'm only surface and no substance?"

"I didn't say that at all, Alexei. Quite the contrary! You have shown yourself to be a man of great substance. I told you, you've got the hardest job in the world, and you do it quite well."

"When I'm not slitting my wrist or overdosing."

Runningwater shook his head. "Anyone of your sensitive nature would be bothered by what you have to do."

"What, you mean fucking a man I don't love?" Krycek said, shrugging.

"It isn't that simple. I've told you that I believe that part of you does love him. That complicates matters."

"Oh, I don't! He imprisons and abuses me!"

"But it wasn't always so."

"It all comes down to Mulder, doesn't it?" Krycek asked slowly. "His insane jealousy of Mulder."

The Navajo snorted. "Not so insane, is it? His son, young and beautiful as he was once, supplanting him in your affections?"

Krycek grinned. "Bet he was something...I've seen the pictures taken with Teena Mulder."

"As a matter of fact, all the women were scratching each others' eyes out trying to get at him. Mrs. Mulder got at him."

Krycek pulled his knees up to his chin. "Two bastard children, beautiful children, Fox and Samantha...Must've killed ol' Bill Mulder. His rival in everything. Like a cuckoo, laying its eggs in other birds' nests...Do you know that's the origin of the word 'cuckold,' Bill?"

"My bright boy. You did well in school, didn't you? Well, those were the days before genetic testing...I don't think he ever knew."

"How long have you known him?"

Bill Runningwater laughed. "Oh, we go back. Must be forty years, maybe more. Yes...I was around for Fox's birth. He was big. Everyone predicted he'd be tall. Bill Mulder was rather short..."

"Geez, how old are you, Bill?"

"I am older than I look, my darling boy."

"How did a really nice person like you get hooked up with him?"

"Hey, I could ask the same about you! These things happen. All kinds of people pass through his life, flickering through his thoughts like old movies or shadow puppets, projected on the dark fabric of his mind."

Krycek rocked, his cheek on his knees. "Bill?"

"Yeah hm?" He concentrated on putting another coil on his pot.

"Do you believe in reincarnation? That we're compelled to repeat the past? That the people in our lives now were in our past lives with us?"

The Indian looked up. "You know, I don't honestly know. I know that Sharon does. I think it's possible."

"Sharon thinks I'm here working out bad karma."

Runningwater's eyebrows shot up. "Well, it's a pretty nice place to work out bad karma in, Alexei! You're not in jail or anything like that."

"I might as well be," he said moodily.

"Alex, we've been through this before," the older man sighed. "You wouldn't be in this pickle if it weren't for Fox Mulder. It's not your fault, it's not Mulder's fault, it's not even the Old Man's fault, it's just the way things played out. This is what is known in common parlance as a love triangle. Perhaps you've heard the term before?"

Krycek nodded. "Of course. And you're right, except that it is the Old Man's fault, for hanging onto me, for not letting me go, for trying to mold me into who he wants me to be: someone who is in love with him, which I will never be."

"So, why is that, Alexei?"

"That I don't love him? Because I'm in love with Mulder, duh!"

"Not 'duh'! Not 'duh' at all! Let me ask you, why are you in love with Mulder? Is it his beautiful soul? Wouldn't be that gorgeous face, would it? Wouldn't be that great, big--"

"Hey!" said Krycek. "This isn't fair!"

"Ah, my shallow, shallow Alexei!" Runningwater said, laughing. "Wish you could have known him in his youth! I'm telling you, Teena Mulder would have had children by the man she was married to!"

Krycek couldn't help it; the whole thing was so funny; he burst out laughing.

"Alex! Alex! Come back to bed!" the voice called, and the spell was broken.

"Arf arf arf," said Krycek, softly.

*************************************************

Wednesday morning dawned and Scully was up with the birds. She made herself a bowl of oatmeal and sat down to eat it. Mulder came schlumping down the stairs in just shorts, yawning.

"Mulder," she said, eyeing him, "you're going to inflame the female portion of the house, myself included. Put something else on!"

"Aw, whatsa matter, Scully? I'm covered, decent."

"You may be covered, Mulder, but you're not decent," she said, looking at the bulge in his shorts. His gaze followed hers. 

"Oh," he said. "Don't worry, I won't force myself on you. This is for Alex."

"Then Alex is a very lucky man."

"He will be," said Mulder smugly.

She rolled her eyes. "There's oatmeal, Mulder. You might consider eating, to keep up your...strength!"

He smirked. "My 'strength' does a damned fine job on its own."

"My, we're pert this morning," Scully remarked, spooning oatmeal.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to eat while you're talking?"

She smiled at him. "It does my heart good to see you back to your old self! For over a week you slunk around like a whipped cur. Now, look at you! It's the prospect of seeing Alex again, isn't it?"

"Yes. I love him so much, Scully!"

She nodded. "I know, and he loves you so much! That's one reason you were picked for the ritual, you two. Better magic, or something."

"Power. Greater power."

"Um-hm. Eat something, Mulder! Even a bowl of Cheerios!"

"Aw crap," he said, but fixed himself a bowl of Frosted Flakes.

"Those are Langly's," she remarked. "He's not gonna like it if you eat them all."

He faked a snarl. "Listen, woman! I'll eat all the Frosted Flakes I choose and I dare him to say anything about it!"

She grinned. "You really are doing well! I'm so happy for you, Mulder." Inwardly she thought: he's going to be that much more devastated when Alex leaves him.

There was a creak on the staircase and White walked down, whistling some little nonsense tune. 

"Oh, look who got some!" said Mulder.

Scully's face got as red as her hair. White went over to her and kissed her deeply, oatmeal and all. The kiss said: you're my woman, now and forever.

"What're you doing in your shorts, Mulder?" he asked.

"Sitting. At the table? Anyway, aren't you glad I'm not in YOUR shorts?" Mulder responded.

Scully tittered. Here was the old Mulder!

The Lone Gunmen came downstairs and went for the cereal. Last to show up was Sharon, wearing a long skirt and sweater. "Hi guys!" she said brightly. Mulder sneaked a look at her face: a little tired, but firm and resolute. She was going to go through with it.

"Here, Sharon, you can have my seat," he said solicitously, getting up. "Let me fix you something to eat."

"No. No food. I'll have some herb tea, though."

*************************************************

Nightshade was really pissed after her meeting with the Old Man. To threaten her! God damn him! She ought to have pulled out her Ruger and offed him right then and there, but incredibly, she had hesitated, out of fear of reprisals on the part of god knew who, perhaps Krycek, perhaps someone else. Well, he would get his. She'd make sure of that.

She drove "home" and went right to bed. She hauled out her player and played her Metallica and Ozzy Osbourne CDs, one after the other. The songs, about death and the devil, for the most part, pleased her. She knew that Sharon Green had had intercourse with the devil, or claimed to have had, and was now pregnant with God knew what. Well, it should have been her, Nightshade. She was stronger than that Green bitch. Wonder why he chose her? Possibly for her looks, she thought jealously. That was reason enough to kill her. No one in Nightshade's world could be prettier than she.

Someone knocked on the door. Probably some geek selling terrariums for the Reverend Moon. "We don't want any!" she called. The knock was repeated, along with a menacing, "open up!" She rose, and, donning her robe, picked up her pistol, sliding the clip in.

"Now who the fuck is it?" she yelled.

"FBI! Open the door or we'll break it down!"

"Oh, no! I'm not falling for that!" she exclaimed.

"Open the door and we'll show ID."

"ID can be faked, buster. Now take a hike!" The door shook on its hinges as someone threw himself against it. The hinges held for a bit, then failed, the door fell inward and the men came rushing in. She found herself looking down the barrels of two Sig Sauers. "Up against the wall!" the taller of the men shouted, relieving her of her gun. 

"Barbara Donaldson, you're under arrest for the murder of..." they reeled off several names, some of which didn't even sound familiar.

"I didn't do it, and I want my lawyer!" she snarled, as they cuffed her.

"You'll get to call your lawyer, and I believe you did do it," the younger man said calmly.

"You!" she said fiercely. "Brian Boru, the great hero, is it?"

"Johansen, yes. Watch the step here, Ms. Donaldson."

At approximately 8 AM, the house phone shrilled. Krycek, who'd been up for hours, took the call. "Krycek," he said softly.

"Alex? This is Barbara Donaldson?"

"Oh. Yeah? What do you want?"

"I need to talk to the boss&#8230;it's really urgent."

"OK," he said. He placed the phone down on the table, yawned, stretched, walked around the room, ate a cookie, drank a glass of milk, scratched himself, inspected his rather bloodshot eyes in the mirror over the sink, and went to get the Old Man.

"What is it, Alex?"

"That Nightshade-bitch. Says it's urgent."

"Barbara, what is it?&#8230; You're where?&#8230; They what? You really fucked-up badly, Barbara. You must have been tailed&#8230;OK, you will, huh? OK, I'll make the calls, but look, this is your last chance, and I do mean that&#8230;oh, yes, I do. Do you know how Alex killed his last victim?&#8230; yes, this is a threat, exactly!"

He slammed the phone down. "This is NOT what I needed to hear first thing in the morning! Alex, what&#8230;oh my God, that feels good! Don't stop!"

He came quickly in Krycek's mouth. "What a nice surprise!" he said. "Now I've got to make a couple of calls&#8230;"

The second was to A.D. Skinner. "Skinner," that party said tersely.

"Assistant Director. Do you know who this is?"

"I'll bet it's not Santy Claus. What do you want?"

"Your people are not supposed to be impeding me!" the Old Man said, quietly but furiously. "Alex, get my cigarettes, will you?&#8230;thanks." He shook one out and lit it.

"Since I deputized Alex Krycek as an employee of the Federal Government, you are holding him illegally and thereby impeding ME!"

"If I were you, I wouldn't mess around, Mr. Skinner! Call off your dogs!"

"I don't take orders from you!"

"Oh yes, you do. Yes, you do," the Old Man said, exhaling smoke.

*************************************************

Barbara Donaldson, having submitted to the indignities of strip/full body cavity searches and jail "processing," was cooling her heels in a holding cell. Her threat to tell everything she knew to the FBI had worked: the Old Man would get her out of jail. He may or may not try to kill her after that; she'd have to be very vigilant. First on the agenda was to get another motel room, preferably one not in the immediate vicinity. 

Nightshade heard footsteps approaching her down the hall and looked up. A rather tall, powerfully-built balding man strode toward her and stopped in front of her cell. "Barbara Donaldson? I am Assistant Director Skinner of the FBI."

"Hi," she said. "Did he send you?"

He snorted. "If by 'he' you mean Spender, he did not! I'm here on my own recognizance."

Her mouth made an "o." "Geez, A.D., I'm supposed to be getting out of here. You know anything about that?"

"You're not getting out, young lady, until you answer some questions."

"I didn't do anything," she said automatically.

He laughed. "I'll just bet. You didn't murder all those people, you didn't conduct espionage."

She looked sullenly at the smooth concrete floor.

Skinner motioned to the guard, who unlocked the door. "We'll just go to a room. Would you like coffee, cigarettes, Coke?"

"I don't smoke. I'd like some coffee, though. And get me out of these cuffs."

"In just a moment."

Suddenly his cell phone went off. "A.D. Skinner&#8230;yes&#8230;I'm talking to her&#8230;what? What? I don't believe it! No! No, you can't do this to me! Shit!" he punched the off button.

"The old bastard won again!" he cried. "The director's ordered me to let you go! I don't believe it!"

Nightshade looked at him smugly. "My boss. He's your boss, too."

*************************************************

The folks at the Steamer's house were all a-twitter, trying on robes, laughing and joking.

"You look quite the Druid, Mulder," Scully remarked. "What does red stand for?"

He looked at her. "It's a Mars color, a power color, and it's the color of passion, of sexuality."

"That's not surprising then, that you have it," Scully said. She was dressed in a deep forest green that set off her pale skin and red hair.

"You look beautiful, Scully. If I only liked girls&#8230;"

"Well, today, it is fortunate that you don't, Mulder," she said, smiling at him. "What color does David have? Oh, yellow. What does that mean?"

"It's supposed to be a 'God color'. Don't ask!"

The Lone Gunmen each wore brown. "This is the color associated with the artisan," said Byers thoughtfully, looking at his robe. 

"The sleeves are a little long," commented Frohike.

"This is like Halloween!" exclaimed Langly. "When are we going over there?"

"Oh, about 4:00," Sharon said, coming into the room. She was in her white robe, her bright hair falling about her like a cloak.

"You look just like an angel," said Scully, when she could find her voice.

"Thank you! You look beautiful, yourself!"

"When are you getting Alex?"

"At about 5 o'clock."

"How are you getting past the guards and the Smoking Man?"

Sharon looked at her. "You must just trust that I will. They have no power over me!"

*************************************************

Mahdib Abdul paid a last-minute visit to the Wicca store in Capitola to buy a robe. "Which color do you think I should buy?" she asked the clerk.

"Well, I would say&#8230;blue, light blue, stands for intellectual pursuits."

"Oh, you said so based on these?" she asked mischievously, indicating her glasses.

"Well, partly. Partly on your vibe. Are you going to the big ceremony?"

Mahdib nodded. "Yes. Have there been others through here lately?"

"Yes, Rose of Sharon herself was here, the High Priestess, a very holy person. And another, yesterday, very pretty tanned, blonde beach-bunny type, but she seemed to have a bandage on her arm or something&#8230;it was odd, her typical Capitola By-the-Sea getup and that bandage."

"What color robe did she get?"

"Well, I wanted her to wear maybe black, but she insisted on purple, the color of spirituality&#8230;the woman is not spiritual at all, or I'm a goose."

"Thank you very much for the robe. I hope to see you at the ceremony!"

Mahdib drove directly to the motel where the Consortium members were staying. "Here is my getup," she said to The First Elder, pulling the robe and cloak out of the shopping bag.

"That's good. Have you a disguise in mind for your face and hair?"

"Yes, I'll wear a wig, contacts, makeup."

He nodded. "You can get Nightshade?"

"If I see her, I will most certainly shoot her."

"With a silencer, I hope?"

"Yes."

"What about Spender?"

"What about him? If I see him, I will shoot him too."

"Very good, Scimitar. And last, what of Krycek? We know he'll be there."

I won't harm a hair on his dear, dear head. "I'll get him too," she said steadily.

"I've been authorized by the group to pay you more, Mahdib," he said, and handed her an envelope full of cash. "Be sure to accomplish all you set out to do."

*************************************************

The Steamer's residents gathered for an impromptu meeting at around 2 PM. They sat looking solemnly at Sharon.

"As you know, I won't be with you, in this form, after about midnight tonight," she said sadly. "As you also know, you are all heading into danger with me. If anyone wants to back out, I would understand perfectly." They all shook their heads.

"OK, then, this is the game plan. At 3 o'clock, we pile into as many cars as we need and drive to the site; park in the parking lot. At 5:00, I go get Lexy; at 7, the ceremony begins. First is the Salute to the Goddess and the Calling of the Quarters. Then I pray. Finally, the Great Rite is conducted. At this time you'll just relax till they, you, Mulder, come back from the forest. All the power is raised that there's gonna be, and then I expect Him to show up. At that point you will see fireworks everywhere. It should be a good show!"

Scully shook her head. "As you know, we're all going to miss you terribly! This is a sad and terrifying thing for us."

Sharon looked at her. "I will be with you, always," she said gravely. "When you pray to the Virgin Mary, and She is with you, there also will I be, sitting at Her right side."

Scully looked down; a tear slid down her face, then another. On her left, Mulder was also crying; White was manfully biting his lip; and the Lone Gunmen were sniffling.

"Now let's have these sandwiches brought by the corner deli, each with a glass of rose wine." She passed them around, and they each took one. "Eat." She said. "Drink. This is our last meal together."

*************************************************

While the Old Man made some calls, Krycek went into the bathroom. He scrubbed his mouth out with toothpaste and gargled mouthwash. He ran a bath and climbed into the huge sunken tub. He thought of Mulder, and he got a raging erection. "Down, boy!" he admonished his errant cock. If the Old Man saw this, he'd drag him right out of the tub, and then he'd need another bath.

He lay back in the hot water, floating a rubber duckie and trying to think unsexy thoughts. It was no use. His erection continued to poke above the water line. Tentatively, at first and then more confidently, he stroked his cock, rubbing and pumping it, closing his eyes and thinking of Mulder, his full lips and warm, sweet mouth on him. He could feel the familiar pleasant warmth steal over him and gather in his loins, then the rush of pleasure, and he arched his back and gasped as he came in a fountain in the tub.

"That was really something," the man remarked, lighting a cigarette. "I love watching you when you come. If you hadn't just done me, I'd have you now."

Krycek sighed. "I'm getting out now," he remarked. "Do what you want with me."

Surprisingly, the Old Man just looked at him. "You are very beautiful, Alexei. And soon, you'll be perfect."

Krycek glanced at him. It was an odd thing to say.

Dressing, he pondered the meaning of the man's words. Surely he couldn't mean he'd be dead soon or something? He felt around in the back of the closet for the box containing his robe. Red, as Mulder's was. He tried it on, looked at himself in the mirror. It certainly gave him a witchy look, maybe as the ancient Celts may have appeared.

He took off the robe and stowed it back in the closet, pulled out a green T-shirt, put it back, took a red T-shirt from the rack and put it on, and some jeans.

"Alexei, come have breakfast with me!"

"Um, I'm not hungry."

"That's because you've been eating cookies. All right. Alex, this is an extremely important and very busy day for me. I'll be gone from 3 to midnight or later. I'm leaving you pretty much to your own devices. Bill is gone &#8211; he left a message that he'd be back later in the evening, something about a wedding he has to attend. Bruno and Dane will be up in a few minutes, and they'll keep an eye on you. I'm trusting you to behave. No calls to Mulder, etc."

"Nope," said Krycek innocently.

"I hope you mean it!" said the Old Man, and swatted Krycek on the butt affectionately. Krycek turned around and kissed him with a good show of passion. Now I gotta wash my mouth out again, he thought irritably.

*************************************************

Nightshade donned her purple robe and cape and drove to the Forest of Nicene Marks to scope it out before anyone else arrived. She was heavily armed, and she had high-powered binoculars with her. She picked out a site on a hillside between two sequoias and trained the glasses on the pavilion. No one was here yet. She expected a sizable crowd, but it was only noon or so, and no one had shown up this early.

Then she heard the sound of a car pulling into the parking lot, and she picked out Green's red Miata. Aha. This was about to get interesting. The woman left the car, dressed in white robes. Oh, that fit. Sharon Green, virgin pure.

Sharon looked at the pavilion, adjusted a chair and headed right in Nightshade's direction. "You," she called, pointing a finger, "are disarmed." Nightshade began to draw her Uzi, but it was too hot to touch. It thudded to the soft forest floor, deformed and twisted into a pretzel shape. She tried to draw her Ruger, but it suffered the same fate. Lastly, she pulled her stiletto out of her waistband, only to see it fly into tiny shards, landing in the redwood duff.

"You bitch!" Nightshade remarked. "I can always come back with more."

"And they will suffer the same fate. Give it up, Barbara."

"I won't! And you're going to be very sorry!"

"Barbara, there's a piece of advice I'd like to convey to you, and that is to pack up your bags and leave. Just leave. Otherwise, you will die tonight."

"Oh, yeah? And you're gonna kill me, I suppose? I can kill you with my bare hands!"

"You can try," she said, and she walked away.

Nightshade made a "gun run" for more arms and ammo, and drove back, parking in a secluded spot behind a stand of redwoods.

At three o'clock the Steamer's folks began to arrive. Scully, White and Mulder took the Cabriolet and the Lone Gunmen, their rental car. Nightshade watched as they unloaded coolers, picnic baskets, tablecloths, blankets, buckets of ice and the like, and set them up on card tables.

Sharon set up her altar. Oh, the bitch had a picture of the Virgin Mary, huh? She really believed in her. She, Nightshade, was going to call on Mary, or Mari or whatever, herself.

In an hour Sharon walked into the woods and disappeared. Simply disappeared. Straining her eyes through her binoculars, Nightshade couldn't tell where she'd gone. She got up and walked in the same direction.

*************************************************

Sharon willed herself onto the Soquel property, and found herself standing near the living room window. Surrounded by the white light of the universe, she simply went through it, passing like a ghost. 

The denizens of the castle sat frozen in their chairs: Bruno and Dane, the guards, and the big Boss Man. "Bruno, Dane," she said, approaching them and touching each, "sleep." "Charles," she said, touching the Smoking Man on the forehead, "sleep." All three fell immediately into a deep slumber. 

"Lexy, are you ready?" she called. "It is time!"

Krycek walked down the hall wearing his red robes. She smiled at him. "Are we going to fly?" he asked.

"It is a bit like flying, Lexy. Take my hand, and you will be upheld in more than this!" He took her hand and closed his eyes. There was a rushing sensation around him, and then they were standing on the forest floor. He swayed a little. 

"Wow," he said.

She looked at him. "For tonight, I am healing all your hurts, all your wounds and bruises and aches and pains." The bandage on his arm fell off, and he looked in wonder at his wrist, which had no sutures nor marks of any kind.

"Come," she said, "meet the folks!"

Nightshade saw Sharon appear, seemingly out of thin air, and then she reappeared a few moments later with someone who looked like Krycek. She aimed her binoculars. This guy had one empty sleeve. It was Krycek. Wonder how she got him past the Old Man's security? 

Krycek walked with Sharon to the pavilion, admiring it. Mulder was conferring with White and his head was turned, so that he did not immediately see them. "Mulder!" Sharon called. "Come meet someone!"

He looked up and his face changed. Wonder, joy and relief were all written there. "Alex!" he cried, and charged forward to meet Krycek, hugging him so hard he lifted him off his feet.

"My love," said Krycek, "I am so happy to see you," and he wept.

Mulder hugged him hard, his face buried in Krycek's hair. "Oh Alex, it's so wonderful to have you here! I wasn't sure you'd make it."

"I wouldn't miss it for anything in the world," said Krycek solemnly. They looked at each other and kissed, long, hard and deeply. Krycek bit Mulder's lower lip. Mulder nipped Krycek's cupid's bow. "Darling," breathed Krycek. They gazed into each other's eyes, emerald meeting turquoise-green.

"Looks like you two have started the Great Rite already," remarked Scully.

"It's OK," said Sharon. "They're stirring up a lot of great energy this way. It's gonna be fantastic, you'll see."

"For them or for us?"

"Both," she laughed.

*************************************************

Sharon's Wicca group began to arrive, straggling in, in ones and twos, dressed in a rainbow of cloaks and robes. They brought drums and other noisemaking items. The wine and nibbles were broken out and people stood around chatting like a cocktail party for Druids.

Last to arrive was Scimitar, dressed in her blue robes, her hair dyed red. Sharon cast a very knowing eye on her and pointed to her weapons; they fell out of her cloak to the forest floor, ruined. "Mahdib!" cried Krycek, hugging and kissing her. "How the hell are you?"

"I'm fine; how are you? I haven't seen you in ages!" Her eyes roved over him, taking in the pale, still very beautiful face, the thinness, and the empty sleeve.

"I was wounded in Tunguska," he said, indicating the arm that was no longer there.

"That's so sad, Alex! I really feel for you! How are things back at the ranch?" she asked, jerking her head to the south.

"I try not to think about it too much, actually," he said thoughtfully. "It just upsets me."

"I heard you tried to hurt yourself or something."

"Yeah, twice."

She shook her head. "Suicide is a permanent solution&#8212;"

"&#8212;to a temporary problem. Yeah, I know."

"You're in a relationship with that guy who holds you prisoner there."

"Hey, is this common knowledge?"

"No," she said, "I'm a spy, remember?"

"Mahdib," he said, kissing her lightly, "so good to see you! You look beautiful, and the hair &#8211; well, really wild!" he laughed. "I have to find Mulder now."

He found Mulder talking to Scully, swooped down on him and kissed him. "My love," he said, coming up for air, "feel!" He guided Mulder's hand below his waist.

"That's an amazing hard-on, Alex!" in response, he was rapidly getting hard. 

"Mulder. Let's go into the woods. Suck me. Please, just to take the edge off?"

Mulder caught Krycek to him and kissed him, rubbing his cock against Krycek's, feeling him through the fabric of the robe. "Don't you think it'll be hotter," he asked, "to save it for a few hours from now?"

"I don't know if I can wait. I primed the pump this morning, Mulder. I feel like I'm gonna spontaneously combust!"

"You're gonna have to hold out, if you can, Alex. We need to save our energy for then, or something like that."

Krycek nodded. "I can still kiss you," he said, and he did, a searing kiss that left Mulder feeling weak and dizzy. He could feel himself leaking pre-ejaculate onto the robe. 

"I'm so turned on," Mulder said, "I can hardly stand it!" In response, Krycek kissed him some more, deep-throating him with his tongue, licking and nibbling Mulder's lips, exploring his mouth, meeting tongue-to-tongue. He rubbed Mulder's crotch with his. Poor Mulder couldn't hold out; he came with a shout all over his robe.

"It's OK," Sharon, who had been standing nearby, said. "This is all about sexual energy, the Kundalini. The more you can raise, the better."

Mulder had gotten hard again in about fifteen seconds. "Your turn," he said to Krycek. He kissed Krycek's beautiful face; kissed his perfect cupid's-bow lips, the tip of his small nose, his eyelids, his long black lashes. He tongued Krycek's lips, bit them and sucked them, and explored the interior of his mouth with his tongue. He hiked up Krycek's robe, slid a hand down his jeans and grasped his cock, rubbing and stroking it till Krycek came, groaning and looking into his eyes. 

"That was fuckin' amazing," Krycek panted. "We should do this more often!"

"Did that take the edge off?" Mulder asked, kissing him.

"It did for now."

"Looks like we both messed up our robes," Mulder observed. "How're we gonna appear at the Ceremony like this?"

"You guys!" said Sharon, walking up to them. "I figured this would happen, so I brought extra robes and jeans. If you're gonna keep messing around, don't change into the new ones yet!"

"Thanks, Sharon," they both said. "We'll just kiss from now until whenever," said Krycek. "When is whenever, by the way?"

"Oh, around 8 o'clock."

Clouds gathered, and rain began to fall: first a light drizzle, then more heavily. The afternoon gradually lengthened into dusk, and thence into night. Hundreds of candles were lit under the pavilion, providing the only light.

Unseen by any, Sharon felt in her robe pocket for the inverted gold cross, which she dug into the ground. It worked its way in on its own the rest of the way until it had disappeared from sight. The ground shook and there was a tremendous rumble. 

"About a 6.2," remarked Bill Runningwater, who had been helping the Lone Gunmen with the public address system and now stood beside Sharon.

Krycek and Mulder sat necking on pillows in the candlelight, deep-kissing, nipping lips, sucking earlobes, giving each other hickeys. Sharon lit incense. "When the time comes, you two, I expect you to fuck with great intensity," she said bluntly. "Give it your all. Make it kinky if you'd like." She placed a gentle hand on Krycek's arm. "Just reading your energy, Lexy," she said. "I would have expected that you, from prolonged intimate contact with that evil man, would have suffered a serious energy disturbance, but I detect none. You are lucky!"

"I guess so," said Krycek, looking at Mulder.

They fell back to necking, and some petting crept in there too. Both men began to feel very hot. Gradually the pavilion began to fill around them, but they didn't notice, so engrossed were they in their love play. Nightshade saw them and smirked. Faggots, faggots, she thought. Mahdib saw them and was sad. Waste of two beautiful men, she thought.

Sharon sat on a big chair at the head of the congregation, testing the sound. Then she cleared her throat and began. "Mari, oh great mother, I call this service in thy name. There is a sequence of events here, for those who don't know what's going on. First," she said, picking up a short steel dagger, "I will create the circle. All take hands, save our lovers, Alex and Fox. They will remain inside the circle."

Sharon walked around the perimeter of the circle wielding the knife, and as she walked, it seemed that she drew a line of smoke.

"All right, the circle is created. Now I will call the quarters," she said, picking up her gemstone-studded wand. "First the North. Morgana, the Protectress, cold North wind, I invoke thee to protect us, especially the lovers. Now the South. Isis, great wife of Osiris, the warm South wind, blow well on us tonight. The East: Kuan Yian, goddess of compassion, look with favor upon us and ease the sufferings of Alex and Fox. The West: White Buffalo Woman, sent to save the world, save us now!"

As she called the quarters, Sharon lit four candles, each representing one of the four directions. "I now salute the Goddess, in all of her many guises, Gaia, Diana, Danu, Morgana, Isis, Melitta, Kuan Yin, Kali, Shakti, Tara, and last but not least, Mari, the mother goddess of all, also known as Mary, Mother of God," she said reverently, indicating the picture of the Virgin Mary. Sharon lit the tall white "Goddess candle," and held it aloft.

"We now do the ritual work. Is there anyone with any special requests?" she asked, her eyes sweeping the crowd. I want my arm back, thought Krycek. To his surprise, she looked at him. "And so you shall," said the words in his head.

Someone had a request to heal her sick cat, which she'd brought in a carrier. Sharon gently took the cat out of the carrier, touched it and gave it back to the owner. "Your pet is healed," she said.

Someone else had an ailing father, and provided a picture to Sharon, who assured her the man was now healed. One young woman, a student at the University, wanted to pass all her classes this quarter, and Sharon laughed and said of course she would.

There were several other requests in this vein, and each time Sharon performed what looked to be a miracle. "Now," she said, "the time has come for us to bind our lovers in a handfasting. This is a traditional Wicca wedding. I know that they've been married before, but we ask that they be married in us. Alex and Fox, step forward! Take each other's hand."

She walked over and put a handmade broom in front of them. "Do you, Alex and Fox, swear to always love each other? This vow remains in effect after death, when you have gone on to Sidhe or another life."

"Yes, we do," they echoed.

"All right. Holding hands, jump over the broom three times, and you will be wed."

They did as she asked. She placed circlets of oak leaves, symbol of the God, upon their heads. The congregation clapped and whooped. "Now Alex and Fox, the time has come for you to consummate your handfasting in the Great Rite. You may remain here or go into the woods; the choice is up to you. Here are some blankets you may wish to use."

She handed them the blankets and they headed off. Three feet from the pavilion, Mulder spun Krycek around and kissed him, lifting his robe and sliding a hand down his jeans, grasping his cock, as he did so. "Mmmph," said Krycek, melting into the kiss. "You're gonna make me come real soon here, Mulder."

"That's fine," said Mulder. "Come a lot for me, OK? I love to watch you when you climax!" He stroked Krycek's cock and indeed the man did climax, yelling and coming all over himself, and Mulder's hand. 

"Oh, God, that was good!" said Krycek. "Let's go somewhere where they can't see us!" They picked up the blankets and headed into the woods. 

"How about this?" asked Mulder. It was under the sequoias yet bare and clean of vegetation. 

"Like someone swept it out for us!" laughed Krycek. "Hey, it's your turn, Mulder," he said. They pulled the robes over their heads and their jeans off. "What is your pleasure?" Krycek asked softly.

"Anything, Alex, anything at all you want to do."

Krycek pushed him down on the blankets and spread his legs, crawling between them. Balancing on his arm, he bent his head and took Mulder in his mouth. Mulder gasped. "That's what I was hoping you would do!" he said. 

Krycek gently nipped, nibbled and tongued the head of Mulder's huge cock, licking up and down the sides of the shaft, licking and sucking the balls one by one. He licked across the perineum to the tight muscle and licked that too, sending jolts of pleasure through Mulder. Krycek put his tongue in and Mulder moaned. Krycek licked up the perineum, up between the balls, up Mulder's cock and sucked on just the head. Mulder groaned and writhed. Then he swallowed Mulder up to the root, his throat massaging the head, the interior of his soft, warm mouth the shaft, and his tongue working the sensitive spot under the head, so that it felt to Mulder that there were two or three mouths on his cock.

He licked and sucked steadily for a few minutes, the sucking getting harder and harder, till finally Mulder came in enormous shuddering gasps, shooting hot fluid down Krycek's throat. He lay there panting, indicating Krycek to lie with him. He hugged Krycek to him. "Alex, I love you so much! Look at the stars! There's that satellite I remember seeing over the Utah desert."

Krycek looked at him. "Yeah. It stopped raining, did you notice? Wanna fuck?"

"I want to suck you off first, then we'll both fuck in all kinds of ways&#8230;there's no time limit to this thing, is there?"

Krycek shook his head. "You know, I think she has to be finished with the whole thing by midnight, and that has to include the visit from her infernal&#8230;personage."

Mulder nodded. "OK. Now I'll suck you. Let me spread your legs&#8230;"

Mulder kissed Krycek slowly, first starting at his swollen lips, moving inward to his mouth, then out to the lips again, nipping and sucking them. He kissed Krycek's ears, his nose, his neck down to his chest, dragging his tongue through the chest hair, tonguing nipples which were already standing at attention, nibbling and sucking them. Krycek sighed and shifted under him. He had an erection again, and it was pressing into Mulder's newly-tumescent cock. Mulder kissed Krycek's belly, his navel, kissed downward to the insides of his thighs. He licked up and down the insides of the thighs, always just barely missing the cock. Krycek moaned and rubbed his cock against the side of Mulder's face.

"All right, I can take a hint," Mulder said, and took Krycek in his mouth. He lipped and licked all around on the shaft, sucked the balls into his mouth, then licked downward to the tight bud and licked there. 

"Mulder, I'm gonna come here," Krycek remarked.

Mulder chuckled and licked back up to the tip of Krycek's cock, admiring the shape and symmetry; then swallowed his cock in one gulp, deep-throating it, his mouth and tongue working the shaft of his cock. He licked and sucked for a few minutes. "AH! Mulder!" Krycek screamed, and came deep within Mulder's mouth. Mulder kissed him swiftly, and Krycek could taste himself in Mulder's mouth.

Then Mulder took one of the other blankets and rolled it up. This he placed under Krycek's hips, so that they were cantilevered in the air. "Gonna fuck me?" Krycek asked.

"Yep. Fortunately, I remembered to bring some lube. Here we go," he said, and slicked three fingers and his cock. "Here, Alex," he said, inserting one finger past the tight ring of muscle. "How do you like this?"

"Oh, god, that's good," Krycek breathed. "Come on, bring on the real thing!"

For answer Mulder inserted a second finger, then a third, and wiggled them around. Krycek grunted and trembled. "Please," he said.

Mulder pulled his fingers out and put his enormous erection up against the tight ring of muscle for a moment, then shoved it about a half-inch in. Krycek was sweating. "Please," he said again. Mulder pushed in another half inch. Krycek writhed. "I don't think I can hold out much longer!" Mulder pushed his full 10 inches into Krycek, who gasped. "That's so good, that's so good!" he exclaimed. "Pleaseplease fuck me!"

Mulder pumped into Krycek, harder and harder and faster and faster, and he was so wonderfully long, and wide and hard, and Krycek could barely take it. He saw Mulder arch his back and scream "ALEX!", pounding into him and shooting hot jets deep inside him, and then a wave of the most intense pleasure shook Krycek and he came, yelling Mulder's name and spurting onto his belly.

Gradually they separated, Mulder kissing Krycek the entire time.

They held each other, looking at the clouds cover the stars again. "More rain," remarked Krycek, as the first soft drops spattered them.

"You don't really have to go back, do you?" asked Mulder suddenly.

Krycek squirmed. "Yes, I do and you know it. But let's enjoy the moment, OK?"

"OK." Said Mulder obediently.

"My turn to fuck," said Krycek. "Lie on your back&#8230;good&#8230;now let me slide the blanket roll under your oh-so-delectable butt&#8230;good."

He retrieved the lube from under a blanket and lubed two fingers and his cock. "Mine isn't as big as yours," he remarked.

"Yeah, but it's plenty damned big," said Mulder warmly.

"Here's one finger, Mulder," Krycek said, sliding his index finger in past the tight bud of muscle. Mulder gasped. Here's two," he said, slipping in his middle finger. Mulder moaned. Krycek kneeled in front of Mulder and put his big erection against the anus, then pushed it partway in. "That feel good?"

"You know it does," Mulder gasped.

"OK, here's the rest of it," Krycek said, shoving himself deep within Mulder's heat. Mulder writhed and his hips bucked.

"Oh my God, I love you, Alex!"

"I love you too, Mulder!"

He fucked Mulder slowly and then rapidly, softly then hard. "I love your great big dick, Mulder. You know that?"

"Ah&#8230;I love yours too, Alex! Ah, I think I'm coming!" his back arched and he screamed, yelling Krycek's name and coming on his belly. Krycek's muscles all tensed at once and he came deep inside Mulder, screaming his pleasure and Mulder's name.

"You realize that the noise we make carries for miles, don't you?" asked Mulder idly.

"I suppose. It isn't important, though. The nearest residence is probably my house," said Krycek.

"Really? Hm. Hey, how come, Alex, your little friend, that is to say, your friend and mine, didn't show up for the festivities?"

"Shit, he wasn't exactly invited, was he? But the real reason is because Sharon put him and the guards asleep with just a touch of her hand."

"Was it permanent, do you think?" Mulder asked hopefully.

"Doubtless Sharon has already told you it wasn't. But let's not talk about him. It's a defilement of the holiness of this sacrament."

"OK," said Mulder. "I'm gonna fuck you again, Alex. Turn over on your belly, spread your legs. Want me to beat you while I do you?'

"As long as it isn't the kind of beating you used to inflict upon me, Mulder."

Mulder laughed. "Weren't those the days? My God! I guess I beat up on you because I hated my homosexual feelings&#8230;I knew you were gay, without guilt, and that threatened the hell out of me."

"Yeah, well, could have been also because I was always killing people you liked," Krycek said drily.

"One finger," intoned Mulder, sliding his index finger quickly up Krycek's ass. "Two fingers," and the middle finger followed. He wiggled them around. "You've widened, so I won't use the third finger. Alex," he said, "One big, huge, humongous dick coming right&#8230;your&#8230;way!" he grunted, shoving himself in. Krycek gasped. Oh, Alex was so warm, and tight, and &#8230; wonderful! His fingers reached between Krycek's legs and fondled his balls, gripped his large erection and stroked it. 

Krycek moaned. "I've died and gone to heaven, Mulder! Fuck me, fuck me!" he said.

"All right, I'll fuck you till you're screaming for mercy!" Mulder said, and pumped in and out of Krycek, slowly at first then faster and faster. "Ah..AAAH!" said Krycek, and splattered all over his stomach. Mulder wasn't far behind. He came in an explosion of stars and thought he would lose consciousness. He leaned forward over Krycek and rested his face on his lover's chest, hearing the rapid beating of his heart.

"Alex, I wanna fuck you forever! I want to fuck you day and night for the rest of my life!"

"I know you do, and I wanna fuck you forever too! Let's fuck some more now!"

"Let's do a 69," said Mulder.

"OK," said Krycek. "Can be done if I'm underneath."

"Great!" Mulder said, arranging himself above Krycek. He bent and took Krycek's cock in his mouth, and Krycek leaned upward to take Mulder in his mouth. Mulder licked and sucked Krycek's cock and balls, lingering on the sensitive area on the shaft under the head, and Krycek sucked Mulder's cock as hard as he could. Each of them grunted and moaned as different sensitive parts were stimulated, one after the other.

Krycek sucked Mulder's enormous and tantalizing cock hungrily, and with delight, till that fellow screamed, bent backwards and came, most of his come shooting down Krycek's throat, the rest on his mouth and chin. Mulder sucked Krycek's big cock hard, taking it in till it rubbed the back of his throat. Krycek then came, yelling "Mulder!"

They lay panting on the forest floor. Above them the sequoia branches rustled in the wind. They were getting rather wet, and the blanket was getting soggy. "One more &#8211; sideways, each gets one fuck," Krycek said.

"OK, Alex. Want to go first, or me?"

"You go first, if you like." The talk of further fucking had produced strong erections again in both men. Krycek lay on his side and Mulder lubed up two fingers and his cock. He inserted one finger. "Ooh, Alex, you're nice and wide now. I'm gonna stick my big dick deep inside you now."

He penetrated Krycek, who gasped, and grabbed his cock with the lubed hand, sliding up and down on the sensitive skin. "Oh God Mulder, that's fuckin' great," breathed Krycek.

"And for me, it's great fuckin'!" said Mulder, kissing the back of Krycek's neck, blowing in his ear and nibbling up and down his spine.

This time, Mulder came first, shooting a load of hot fluid deep into Krycek's heat. Krycek took a few seconds longer, then yelled and came all over Mulder's hand.

They lay attached for a moment, may even have been ten or fifteen minutes, long enough for Mulder to get hard all over again.

"My turn to fuck," Krycek said. They came unglued and switched places. "One finger," Krycek said. "Oh, you're OK, too, Mulder. Here it comes!" he lodged the head of his cock up against the tight ring of muscle, then shoved it in. "Ah," gasped Mulder. "yeah..ah..yeah," he said, in time to Krycek's thrusts. "That feels good, Alex! And your hand on my cock&#8212;oh my God!"

Krycek buried his face in Mulder's soft hair, kissed his ear, his neck, his shoulders, licked a wet trail down his back. Mulder and Krycek came at precisely the same moment in time, each yelling the other's name, each shooting a load of hot come.

When they separated they rolled onto a sopping-wet blanket. "Ugh," said Krycek. "It's raining!"

"Duh" said Mulder. "It's BEEN raining! Guess we never noticed it!"

They put on their jeans and shirts, which had been rolled up inside the robes and cloaks. "These robes are pretty sad," observed Krycek, holding one up; it was soaked.

"Yeah," said Mulder. Let's just wear our street clothes, OK? Glad she gave us these new jeans!"

"Sounds good to me," Krycek said.

They walked back to the pavilion, hand in hand, entering the enclosure to loud and enthusiastic applause and whistles. Feels like an AA meeting or something, thought Mulder.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Sharon, beaming on them, "our lovers, Alex and Fox! And was the marriage consummated, Alex and Fox?"

"The consummation came before the marriage," shouted one wit, who had evidently imbibed as much as was good for him.

"Yes," said Mulder and Krycek.

"OK," she said smiling, "now I must take Alex back home."

Krycek's face fell and Mulder thought he would cry. "Come, Lexy," she said and took his hand. There was a sensation of rushing and flying and then he was back in his living room, the guards and the Smoking Man asleep, snoring loudly. "They shall not awaken till after the ceremony is complete. Thank you so much, Lexy, for all your help. You have helped save the world!"

He hugged her, wordless, watching as she stepped away then seemed to vanish. She reappeared at her altar under the pavilion. "Now we come to the solemn part of the ceremony," she said. "Unfortunately, an ancient enemy will appear soon. Do not be afraid! He will not harm you! Think of his methods as mere parlor tricks."

"Really, I'm insulted," came a clear male voice at the back of the pavilion. All turned to look at him; he was a very good-looking young man, tall and muscular, deeply tanned, with longish black hair, wearing a black robe with jeans underneath. There were numerous gasps and it seemed that everyone started talking at once.

"People, please!" called out Sharon. "We should have quiet for this!"

"Yes, I'd be insulted, if you weren't so far beneath me on the evolutionary scale," the man said, crossing his legs. "You mortals &#8211; you're nothing! Do you know that I am an angel?"

"You WERE an angel!" cried Sharon. "They took away your wings, didn't they?"

"My lovely bride, and so fair-spoken," he mused. "Well, I've come to collect you, Sharon. This, folks," he said, his piercing gaze sweeping the room, "is my wife! And she is with my child! Not been deceiving them, I hope?" he asked Sharon.

"You know I haven't!" she said bravely. "Everyone knows!"

"You exaggerate, my love. Ah, my pretty little witch! Goddess magic, candle magic, sex magic! And sex between two homosexuals, at that!" the gay people in the audience glanced at him angrily. "I've come to collect you, my love. Come with me now!" he commanded, putting forth his hand.

"No!" she said defiantly. "I belong to the Goddess!"

"Oh, which Goddess would that be? The whole lot of them not fit to polish my shoes. Now come!"

"No!" she cried. "Inanna, Danu, Isis!" She reached up her right hand and it seemed to the gathering that she held a sphere of lightning, which she threw at the man. He dodged aside neatly. 

"You can't hurt me with your little fireworks," he said. Above them, the rain had increased, sluicing down onto the canvas tent with a great drumming. Lightning flashed, and there was thunder, unusual for this time of year but not unheard-of.

"How about this one?" she asked, hurling another sphere at him. This one caught him a glancing blow on the shoulder, hurling him backwards out of the tent.

"That could make me a little angry, you know," he said, coming back inside the tent. "You'll have to answer for this when we go Home!"

In answer she hurled another missile, which caught him on the leg near the groin.

"Now you're hitting me where it hurts! I tell you, you are coming with me and I shall not be gainsaid!" He rushed up the center aisle. Mulder, on impulse, put out his foot and the incarnation of the Devil went ass-over-teakettle. There was some hesitant laughter and a few guffaws.

"Fox Mulder," the man said, getting to his feet, looking at Mulder with quiet rage. "I could kill you, but I'd prefer you to know some things that would hurt you very deeply."

"I know 'em already," said Mulder with aplomb. 

The man came face-to-face with him. He had gold-hazel eyes and poreless skin. "You don't know every grunt, every groan, do you? I will torture you forever with these, when I see you next."

"Thanks for the offer, but I never plan to see you again," said Mulder. There were scattered claps.

"You will stop this at once!" cried Sharon. "Here! Take that!" and ball-lightning was thrown his way, hitting him in the foot.

The man gathered himself. "I didn't want to have to do this, Sharon, but you leave me no alternative," he said, and threw a globe of fire at her. She had picked up her athame, though, and with this she fended off the blow.

"Go back, go back, and close the door behind you!" she commanded. "Mari, Mary, Mother of God! I need thy help! Turn this demon back to Hell and close the door!"

He took the opportunity to throw another red fire-globe at her, which she deflected with her athame. None of the lightning had reached the gathering, but some were beginning to worry. "You may leave, but you will not be harmed!" she cried.

Nightshade watched, enthralled, hoping to learn something. She'd spied on the Krycek/Mulder pairing &#8211; that'd been cute. And this lightning business &#8211; a great stunt. The Devil, if that were he, was sure a cutie. Much better than that Green bitch deserved. She stood up. "I call upon Danu, Isis, Melitta, Mari, Mary, mother of God!" she cried. "Mary, mother of God!"

Suddenly it seemed that the figure of Sharon seemed to enlarge, to grow taller and taller. Behind her stood a still-taller woman in a blue mantle. She had long brunette hair and a sweet face.

"You are very evil," she said to Nightshade. "And you dare to call upon the sacred Goddess names? You shall be destroyed." She pointed her finger at the terrified Nightshade and the woman was split into pieces, which lay quivering in the aisle.

"You must go back," said the blue-gowned woman to the incarnation of the Devil. "You must go back! I command it! Rose of Sharon, you will come with me," she said. The Mary-figure pointed a finger at the demon and light issued forth. He was thrown backward out of the tent to an unguessed distance.

"It is all right. He has gone back and the door closed forever!" Mari/Mary seemed to enfold Sharon in her arms, then she was gone. Sharon's robes dropped softly to the dirt floor. Venturing forward, Mulder picked up the robes: completely empty. On the floor at his feet was a crying infant, like a fetus of 6 months or so. He tried to pick it up, but its tissues seemed to melt and there was just a quivering glop of stuff on the ground; then, not even that.

He turned and faced the gathering. "It's over, over," he said, "and you know as much about it as I do, probably more." He was surprised to notice a tear running down his face, then another. All around him, people were crying. "We knew this would happen, we were prepared for it, yet we still cried. That is how it's supposed to be. We're supposed to grieve a loss. No, she didn't die, not in the way we would. For all intents and purposes, though, she is dead, taken bodily up to heaven by a great Spirit."

Krycek had the run of the house for a couple of hours before the snoozing guards and the Old Man woke up. He took a long hot shower to remove the smell of sex, then he fixed himself a peanut-butter and cherry-jam sandwich and glass of milk and watched TV in the master bedroom, some really silly sci-fi thriller about two FBI agents and the weird conspiracies they battled. At eleven o'clock, he heard noises in the living room. They're waking up, which means that the thing has disbanded, he thought. Maybe Bill Runningwater is back.

He poked his head into the living room. Yep, they were awake. "Alex, come here!" called the Old Man. Krycek continued chewing moodily on his sandwich. "Alex, come here now!" Krycek swallowed, sighed and walked over to his master. 

"Yeah?" he said, unhelpfully.

"Alex, get me my cigarettes."

"They're in your right suit pocket," Krycek said, pointing.

"Oh&#8230;yeah," the man said. "Well, get me my lighter."

"You have two legs," Krycek remarked, on his way to the lighter drawer.

"What did you say to me?"

"Nothing."

"Didn't sound like 'nothing' to me!"

Krycek silently brought the lighter. "Alex," the Old Man said, "why are you wet?"

Krycek froze for just a moment. "I had a shower," he said.

"Oh, for me? That was nice! Alex, go on and undress and wait for me in bed," the man said.

"No," said Alex Krycek, clearly and distinctly.

The guards froze. "No?" asked the Smoking Man softly, lighting a cigarette. "Why 'no', I wonder? Have you been with Fox Mulder, Alex? Did you sneak out while we were sleeping?"

Krycek bent his head. "Just NO," he said obstinately.

"Come here and let me see you," he said. He buried his face in Krycek's hair. "You don't smell like anything but your shampoo. That's inconclusive, though. Bet I could find out from Mulder, couldn't I?"

"Look, I haven't been with Mulder, OK? I'm just tired and I don't wanna fuck."

"You just think you don't. Wait here."

He brought back a syringe. "Oh, that's the magic fucking drug?" asked Krycek, amused.

"It's&#8230;liquid Quaaludes, Alex. Give me your arm."

"What the fuck for? There's nothing the fuck the matter with me!" said Krycek angrily.

"Most people wouldn't think of turning this drug down, Alex. Give me your arm!"

"No!" Krycek said, dodging out of the way.

"Bruno, Dane, just pick Alex up and put him in the bed over there&#8230; hold him down&#8230;thanks!" Krycek was yelling a mile a minute: "You can't do this to me, you old bastard! I don't wanna be with you! If I don't wanna be with you, you can't make me! I'll kill you! I'll cut you up! I'll put Drano in your mouthwash! The Old Man injected the hollering Krycek with the Quaalude, and he and the guards sat on him until the yelling stopped.

"How do you feel now, Alex?" the man asked, stroking his hair.

"Better," said Krycek. "Could I have a glass of water?"

"Sure, you could. Sit up," the Smoking Man said. The guard brought the water, and the Old Man handed it to Krycek, who drank deeply. "You must not be insubordinate, Alex. It doesn't suit you. Now, get your clothes off and get in bed."

"All right," said Krycek. He felt dizzy and muzzy and floaty. Actually, he felt pretty damned good. He pulled off his jeans, no underwear, and his T-shirt, and lay back on the bed. "What're you gonna do to me?" he asked.

"Nothing you don't want me to do."

"Then, nothing," Krycek responded, insolently, sitting up.

The Old Man slapped him, but he was so high that he hardly felt the pain. Strong hands gripped his shoulders and forced him back down on the bed. "We're making love whether you want to or not," the CSM said.

"What we do is fucking, it's not making love," said Krycek scornfully. "And take your hands off me! You don't have my permission to touch me!"

"You have been with Fox Mulder," the man said slowly, "I don't know how, when or where, but you have been."

Krycek looked down. "No, I haven't," he said, "this is all a figment of your imagination."

"Bruno!" the man said tightly. "Bring me some alprazolam!"

"I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt, since it seems to have been physically impossible for you to get out past the guards or the periphery, or Mulder to get in for the same reason. I'm just trying to calm you down, Alex, get you to see reason. You enjoy our lovemaking; it's obvious that you do. OK, here it is. Thank you. This will just take a second, won't hurt much. There!"

Shortly after the second drug was administered, Krycek began to feel really looped. He lay back in bed, naked, and began masturbating. The CSM was absolutely entranced. "That's beautiful, Alex," he said reverently. "But, here, let me do it for you!"

Afterwards, Krycek felt really dirty. The wrong person, that is, someone Not-Mulder, had come inside him. He took a bath, trying by dint of scrubbing to remove the taint of the Smoking Man, but he was unsuccessful because the poison lay within his mind. He lay in the sunken bathtub until Bill Runningwater came home from the ceremony and came in to check on things. He found the Smoking Man snoring and Krycek in the Jacuzzi. "Alex, how are you?" he asked. "You were fabulous tonight, you and Mulder!"

"I'm OK. I had a really good time with Mulder, I got back and guess who wanted to screw me?"

"Well, did you let him?"

"Aw, not at first, but he shot me so full of drugs I couldn't think straight. So of course, then I did. He thought I'd been with Mulder."

Runningwater shook his head. "That man has 'Muldar'. I think it might be a little bit of a psychic thing since they are first-degree relatives, after all. What did you tell him?"

"I told him 'no', of course; what else could I say?"

"Good, good, you did the right thing."

"It's sad that Sharon died, isn't it?" asked Krycek.

"Yes, it's very tragic." To himself, he thought: I'm writing the archbishop of Santa Cruz County. "She's in a better place, though, Alex. You've got to believe that."

"OK," said Krycek obediently. "Can you scratch my back? It itches."

*************************************************

All the Wiccans who lingered after the ceremony, and that was most of them, helped in the dismantling of the pavilion. They stuffed their cars, vans and trucks with the folding chairs, pillows and blankets, and Mulder crammed the canvas and tent poles into his car.

They were sad and subdued. Mulder shed a few more tears, and Scully, clinging to White, was pretty steadily crying throughout. "This is so sad!" she sniffled. "I really got to love Sharon, you know?"

"Yeah, me too. Hey, Mahdib!" Mulder said.

"The Consortium is going to be very disappointed with me," she said, coming up to Mulder. "I blew it as a spy and I didn't kill anyone. I will have to look for alternate employment."

"Well, look, maybe you can come work for us! You went through the Academy, after all. Come work for us!"

"I don't know," she said doubtfully. "Would Skinner OK it?"

"I think he would, you know," said Mulder thoughtfully. "I'll ask him. What are we going to do with the pieces of Nightshade? And who has 'em, by the way?" he asked, looking around him.

"Oh, didn't you know? They just kind of melted into the ground, a little while ago."

"Oh. Well, that's convenient!"

"Hey, why don't you come over to our house? I could get you acquainted with my friends."

"Well, OK," she said doubtfully. "Aren't I the enemy, and all that?"

"Anyone who's an enemy of the Smoking Man is a friend of ours."

*************************************************

The call came in at 1:30 AM, on the house phone. The Old Man reached one sleepy arm out and picked up the handset. "Yes?"

"Can Alex come out to play?" the voice asked, and laughed.

"Alex isn't here, Fox. Could I help you with something?"

"Oh, I'll bet he's there right next to you. Put him on!"

Krycek had awakened and was regarding the Smoking Man curiously.

"I will not! Anyway, you shouldn't be calling this early. It's rude, Fox."

"I'll call as early as I damned well please! Put him on!"

"Fox, have you been drinking?"

Mulder laughed. "Now, look, you. I'm challenging you to a fair fight, just one on one, without your goons and various other minions interfering. I could take you with one hand tied behind my back!"

The man snorted with laughter. "You don't get it, do you? You just don't get it!"

"Don't get what?"

"Alex is mine, and he will be mine until I say he isn't, or until I die, whichever comes first."

"It might be the latter," said Mulder darkly.

"Let me talk to him," said Krycek. The CSM glared at him.

"Did I hear Alex? Let me talk to him. Please. Dad."

"No, you can't talk to him, and no, I'm not participating in any ridiculous duel. It is unseemly, Fox."

"He likes me more than he likes you. In fact, he doesn't like you at all."

The CSM sighed. "This is the end of this conversation," he said, and punched "off."

Krycek looked at him liquidly. "You won't even let me talk to him," he said, and a tear leaked out and rolled down his face.

"No, I won't, Alex, and you know exactly why. Now, come on, don't cry. Come here and let me hold you."

*************************************************

Mulder stared at the phone, as if it would ring to life in his hand. "That's a losing proposition," observed Scully, who had come to sit by him in the living room.

"Well, fuck. I mean, shit, goddamn it. I can't even talk to him."

"Not yet, Mulder, not yet. Give it time."

"Did you hear the part about me challenging him to a fight?"

She grinned. "I did, and it did my old heart good to hear it! You're funny, Mulder!"

"I was serious," he said, aggrieved.

"I know. That's why it was funny! Hey, Mulder, you might think about packing up your stuff. Skinner called, and we're wanted on the East Coast for another X-File."

"We have to leave?" he asked, sadly.

"Well, of course it would come to an end sooner or later. It's been an amazing adventure, hasn't it?"

"Yes, it certainly has. How long do we have before we ship out?"

"A couple of weeks," she said carelessly.

"You and I go back to our apartments," he said, "and White to his. And no setting up house with Alex Krycek."

"I know how much you love him," she said, hugging him. "What you and he did -- you helped to save the world, Mulder. But you've got to let go of him, for now."

He bent his head, and Scully saw that he was crying. "It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all," she said softly. "And anyway, Mulder, it's not permanent. You'll get him back! Sharon promised!"

"Yes, I know. Could I have a Kleenex, Scully? Thanks!" he said, blowing his nose. 

*************************************************

The Archbishop of the Santa Clara and Santa Cruz County dioceses received the call at 6 AM from an old friend. "Bill!" he exclaimed. "Long time no hear from! How have you been?.l.oh...oh? Well, that's interesting. You can vouch for these miracles?...There were many witnesses?...the Virgin Mary? Interesting!...No, that shouldn't be a problem...She prayed to the Virgin, didn't she? She's one of us, then, though she didn't know it...Yes, absolutely I will...I think it should be expedited...She'll make it before Mother Teresa, I think!...Rose of Sharon, what a beautiful name! And Jewish, too! Perfect!"

Bill Runningwater hung up the phone, very happy with the way things had gone. Now, if he could only think of a way to make his poor Alexei happy, everything would be perfect!

He went into the kitchen to find Alex staring sullenly at his Cheerios. 

"Alexei, why so morose?"

"He fucked me this morning, right after Mulder called, trying to reach me. I hate him!"

Runningwater pursed his lips. "He does do that dog-pissing-on-a-tree thing a lot, doesn't he? Is he still asleep?"

"No. He got up way early and left, thank God for small favors. He left a note -- here it is --saying he'd be gone for a couple days and not to call Mulder."

Bill looked at him. "You'd better not, you know. Do you know we're moving to Portola Valley right away?"

"Oh, you're coming with us? How wonderful!"

The Navajo nodded. "It will be wonderful. I understand he's got something terrific planned for you."

"Oh, what? Mulder? My freedom? Those are the only two things that matter to me."

"No, they're not," said Runningwater. His eyes strayed to Krycek's empty sleeve but he said nothing.

*************************************************

Walter Skinner, Assistant Director of the FBI, sat at his desk, musing. In about a week and a half from now, he'd have his best agents back. He'd read the report, co-written by Scully, White and Mulder, and emailed at 8:00 AM, and it was a wild one, all right. All of the "miracles" were carefully documented, and he had no reason to doubt these three or their perceptions, but it was still pretty outlandish. He was playing with a pencil on his desk when the door opened. The pencil snapped in his hand. "What do you want?" he asked quietly.

His visitor was a very tall older man, broad-shouldered and wearing a black trenchcoat, and he held a lit cigarette. Skinner picked up the "No Smoking" sign on his desk and set it down with a thump in the direction of the other man. This was, of course, ignored.

"Tell me about your latest X-File," the man said. It was an order, not a request.

"There's not much to tell. Some mysterious deaths, D.C. and environs, cause of death unknown, bingo, it's a Mulder/Scully/White case."

The Smoking Man raised his eyebrows. "So. You've got all three on the case. That's good!"

I can just imagine why you think so, Skinner thought. "Are you ever going to release my other agent?" he asked tightly.

"What other agent would this be?" the Smoking Man asked, exhaling smoke.

"Oh, come on! Don't play dumb! I mean Alex Krycek! I deputized him as an employee of the Federal Government!"

"You can't have him," the CSM said smoothly. "He's mine."

So I hear, you old queer, thought Skinner. "I need him and his valuable expertise on this case."

"No, you don't. You can get along just fine without him. Anyway, my son would prove a..distraction to him. You wouldn't get quality work out of him."

Skinner sighed, and absentmindedly broke another pencil. When was this man going to stop inflicting himself on him?

"You may be relieved to know that I'm not going to provide guidance on this case. Much," the Smoking Man said, raising his cigarette to his lips.

Skinner snapped another pencil, pretending that it was the CSM's neck.

"Of course, I have to look out for Fox Mulder," the man said. "He's the only child I have left."

Yeah, I'll just bet, you old goat, thought Skinner. 

"Is there anything else you wish to say to me?" the Smoking Man asked.

"Yes, there is. If you don't want to return my agent, you know there's nothing I can do about it, but I don't like it," Skinner said.

"He stopped being your agent when he went to work for me, or don't you recall? You will eventually face the reality, as Fox Mulder is probably doing right about now, that he is mine."

"You can't own someone in this country!"

"Oh, can't I?"

*************************************************

Two weeks passed. The Soquel household was behind schedule, and all in a dither, packing and marking boxes. It fell to Krycek to pack every one of the 536 identical suits owned by the Smoking Man. "That was #24," he said, folding it into a suit box.

"You're doing great, Alexei!" Bill Runningwater said approvingly. 

"Yeah, I guess. When's the Old Man due back this time, anyway?"

"Well, one never knows."

"I hope it's later rather than sooner," Krycek said, picking up another suit.

The front door opened. "Alex! Alex!" the man called. "Alex -- oh there you are!" The Smoking Man came through the bedroom door and Krycek rose for a hug. "Alex, I've got such pretty things for you! But first -- Bill, can you leave us for a moment? Thanks!" He closed the door behind him.

*************************************************

The Steamer's household was packed and ready for the move. Mulder and Scully took an ambling walk around the neighborhood, passing a Catholic church. Mulder, looking at the church, noticed that workmen were putting the finishing touches on a new stained-glass window. "Look!" he cried, gripping Scully's arm. She looked, and they both saw the person depicted in the window, dressed all in white, her beautiful face solemn and terrible, her bright locks flowing about her, a thunderbolt in her hands. 

Scully gave a strangled cry and sank down on her knees, gripping the cross she always wore around her neck. "My God, My God," she said over and over, shaking.

"Saint Sharon," said Mulder softly, and he wept unashamed.

 

End of Dreambrother Part II, "Grace"

 

* * *

 

Author: Tabby  
Title: Dream Brother Part III: The End of the Night  
Feedback: Please! Either to the author, at either or or to her sister, who is to be blamed for any editorial mishaps, at   
Webpage: http://slash-and-burn.com and http://tabbykat_95124.tripod.com/slash_and_burn1.htm  
TotalParts: 16  
Status: Complete  
Pairing: Other - M/K, K/CSM, M/O, K/O  
Rating: NC-17 for language, m/m and m/f sexual content.  
Warnings: Several violent murders, kink, drug use (involuntary).  
Spoilers: Amor Fati.   
Series: Dream Brother III, sequel to Dream Brother II: Grace  
Summary: As the X-Files team struggles to keep one step ahead of the Consortium's plans for world domination, Mulder falls from grace in his pursuit of Krycek, his raison d'etre, only to be rescued at the end of this, Part III of the tripartite Dream Brother novel: The End of the Night  
Notes: In Tabby's World, the Consortium, including its members the CSM and the WMM, is alive and well. Also, "Existence" never happened. The character of Special Agent White was loosely modeled on Special Agent John Doggett but is not meant to be him. Agent Brian Johansen was modeled on the character Brian Kinney of Showtime's "Queer as Folk".  
Disclaimer: The characters Mulder, Krycek, Scully, Skinner, Kersh, the Cigarette Smoking Man, the Well-Manicured Man, the First Elder, the Second Elder, Cassandra Spender and the Lone Gunmen are owned by Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions.

* * *

The tall, darkly-tanned young man paused at the water's edge in Matu Toopua, Bora Bora, letting the warm wavelets lap over his feet and feeling the sand squish through his toes. His dark hair, having grown rather long, flopped in his eyes and he brushed it back with both hands. He was muscular, yet quite slim, with long legs, washboard abs and movie-star looks. Had he but known it, he attracted admiring glances wherever he went; but he was not a vain person, and so did not notice. 

"Hey!" a voice called. It was a beautiful young woman with French Polynesian looks, grey eyes and long wet black hair, wearing a purple maillot, approaching him with a bodyboard tucked under one arm.

"Hey," he said, smiling. He had perfect teeth, she noted.

She approached him and touched his arm. "My name is Giselle," she said in heavily accented English. "And you are --?"

"Alex," he said, extending his hand. She shook it heartily.

"Aleex, I work here in the resort. I thought that possibly we could go out for a drink?"

"Aren't I supposed to do the asking?" asked Alex Krycek, smiling and pushing his sunglasses down his nose.

"Well, then, will you ask me out?" She flashed her most brilliant smile at him, posed herself to accentuate her large breasts, small waist. 

"Sorry, I think I will have to take a raincheck on that! I'm already spoken for!" he said, shaking his head.

"Oh, you have girlfriend? I am so sorry to intrude!" He indicated further up the beach, where an older man sat reading the Wall Street Journal. She didn't take his meaning at once. "Zat is your pere, your father?"

He shook his head, smiling.

"OH!" she said, and clapped a hand over her mouth. "I am so sorry to bother you!"

"Look, it's OK, really," he said, taking her hand. "Don't be flustered! I would like to go out with you, with the understanding that I'm gay. We could have a good time!"

She nodded. And maybe I can convince the delicious Aleex he is not really gay, she thought. "I'll see you around, OK?" she said.

"Sure," said Krycek, and watched her walk up the beach toward the resort. If I liked girls, he thought.

"Alex! Alex!" called Mr. Wall Street Journal. Krycek rolled his eyes and ran up the beach to the bar area. His master sat on a beach chair with a tray at his side on which sat an ashtray, a burning cigarette, the New York Times, a pitcher of Mai Tais and two tall glasses.

"Sit down, Alex, and have a drink," the man said, indicating the seat next to his.

Krycek sat down and accepted the Mai Tai the man poured for him. "Thank you," he said politely. "It's so gorgeous here, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. You are developing quite a tan, Alex, and now that you are back to the way you should be, you are the most handsome man anywhere. You should see how they look at you, men and women alike!"

"I hadn't noticed," Krycek said, sipping the Mai Tai through a straw. "But thank you for taking me here, and thank you for this, especially!" he said, raising his left arm.

One of the resort employees noticed the uplifted arm and rushed over to take his order. Laughingly, he told the woman he didn't need anything. "Nothing?" she asked, eyeing his stunning face, his beautiful body. "No, nothing. Except bring us another pitcher of Mai Tais when this one is empty, OK?"

"Certainment," she said, looking from one man to the other and smiling. Out of visual range, she shook her head. What a waste.

On impulse, Krycek leaned over and kissed his boss, the Smoking Man. "You're good to me," he said simply.

Later they had dinner at the Otemanu Restaurant. Their waiter tripped, looking at Krycek, who put out an arm to steady him. His left arm. The waiter apologized profusely and Krycek just smiled, looking at him over the rim of his wineglass. They ordered local fish dishes and, when the waiter left, the Smoking Man looked severely at Krycek.

"You shouldn't flirt with everyone, Alex. It gives them the wrong idea; it's false advertising; and you don't mean it."

Krycek looked at him. "For years, I've felt like a freak, not attractive in the least, except to you and Mulder."

"I know," said the Smoking Man, covering Krycek's hands with his own. "I've always known how you've felt. The truth, though, Alex, is that you were gorgeous even then."

"Bill Runningwater said a couple times that half the denizens of the planet were in love with me, or something to that effect."

The Smoking Man laughed. "It's true, Alex!" he said

"Hey, you know what we're not doing?" asked Krycek. "We're not fighting! I knew something was wrong!"

Their dinners arrived and they ate. "This is pretty good! You know, I could get used to this!" he said hopefully.

"Well, we've got another month to go, you recall, in Fiji, which you should also enjoy. Ah, my lovely, lovely Alex! This is what I had hoped for us!" he said, touching Krycek's face. 

The waiter saw the gesture and came nearly unglued, spilling some of the Perrier he was bringing to the table. The CSM lit a Morley. "All the time, everywhere we go, people are looking at us, Alex, and they are very envious."

Krycek smiled. "And I'm the cause of this?"

"Well, actually, you are the eye of the hurricane. You have no perception of the storm all around you."

Krycek leaned forward and whispered something in the older man's ear. The wine steward saw this and dropped his bottle.

"I think that sounds wonderful, Alex! Let's leave now," he said. He pulled a lot of cash from his pocket and lay two hundred-dollar bills on the table.

Their bungalow had bamboo walls and a pandanus leaf ceiling. It was one of the two suites on the islet, and it had a king-sized bed and large bathroom with jacuzzi and windows overlooking the beach. There was a phone and DSL line, a well-stocked refrigerator, hair dryer, iron and board, dry cleaning service, all the comforts of a big hotel on the mainland.

"Let me shower first," said Krycek. "I'll get all this seawater and beach sand off me."

The Smoking Man shook his head. "No, I think I want you with all the seawater and beach sand on you!"

"OK," said Krycek, and slipped out of his swim trunks. True to form, Old Mr. Reliable was standing at attention.

"I'm taking a picture of that," remarked the Smoking Man, fetching his Polaroid. "That goes in the album. OK...smile! There we go!"

"You're a pervert," said Krycek, grinning.

"Get on the bed," was the brusque reply. 

Krycek thought, sliding luxuriously over the Egyptian cotton sheets, it really doesn't take much to keep the Old Man happy, I sure drank a lot today, and whoops! I'm about to come. He did come, arching his back and making strangled sounds and spurting all over the man's hand and the sheets. As was typical, his orgasm triggered the other man's, who came deep inside him.

The older man embraced his young lover and then fell into a deep sleep. When he was good and out and snoring, Krycek extricated himself from the embrace and went to his laptop, which was plugged into the DSL line. He knew that the line went to a transmitter and the transmitter to a satellite, which made it essentially wireless technology, but he still marveled. He brought up AOL Instant Messenger and quickly added "BrownFox" to his buddylist. The computer indicated that "BrownFox" was online, so he quickly typed a message, using his screen name, "Ratboy". "Mulder, my love, where are you?" he typed. 

"Here, darling!" was the response. 

"Where the hell is here?" 

"D.C., of course. Where are you?" 

"Bora Bora." 

"My God! Are you with my father?" 

"Yes." 

"Are you having a good time? ;)" 

"Yes, I am." 

"Now I'm jealous."

"Well, don't be. I still love you, Mulder, only you."

"Yeah, I'll bet. You're a survivor, Alex. If loving him is what it takes for you to survive, you'll do it. I know you."

"Oh ye of little faith! When I get back to the States I'll look you up."

"Where will you be?"

"Portola Valley. It's a beautiful place, Mulder. I have many of my horses there. How's your case going, anyway?"

"Getting nowhere fast. This'll be an Unsolved."

"Well, that's too bad! Think you'll be coming out West in 6 weeks or so?"

"Impossible to say. I'll sure try."

"OK babe. Oh my love he's waking up. I have to go to him."

"OK darling. Enjoy your stay in the Islands."

"I will, thank you. Bye, kiss kiss!"

"Kiss kiss."

Krycek shut the machine down in a hurry and knelt by the bed, kissing the Boss and stroking his hair. "Do you need anything?"

"Just you, Alex," was the drowsy reply. Krycek crawled into the bed next to him, resting his cheek on the man's chest.

************************************************************************

Yes, the case was dead-ending, and Mulder was very frustrated. Four dead people, same m.o., but no conclusive evidence. Damn...he was also thinking a LOT about Alex Krycek. He was overjoyed to hear that he was alive and well, but saddened to think he was still in thrall to that man, Mulder's father. 

My FATHER, he thought, the man I fought for seven years trying to obtain evidence of the coming alien invasion, my FATHER the assassin, my FATHER the destroyer, my FATHER the personification of evil. And now, my FATHER, the thief of my own sweet lover. Give a nod to Oedipus, he thought. Mulder drummed his pencil on his laptop cover, on his knee, on his nose. What to do? What to do?

He decided to call Scully, who was out attending her cousin's wedding. He punched in her cell phone number. "Scully!"

"Mulder?"

"Well, who else? How's it going?"

"About as well as this case is going, Mulder. Thanks for calling. It's taking me away for a little while...I'm thinking of leaving this reception early, anyway. Everyone's really sloppy drunk."

"Have you eaten? Wanna go out to lunch?" he asked hopefully.

"I have eaten, but I'll have a Coke with you...where do you want to meet?"

"How about Tivoli's?"

"Mm, Italian, too bad I don't have an appetite. I'll meet you there in an hour."

Mulder played with his pencils for another half hour. He was getting pretty good balancing them on his nose, if he leaned way back... He leaned too far and hit the floor. "Ow!" he said, to no one in particular.

The restaurant was just pleasantly crowded. Mulder ordered osso bucco and a glass of red wine. "That'll give you a headache," Scully remarked critically. "All the tyramine."

"To tyramine," Mulder said cheerfully, raising his glass.

"To us," Scully said, lifting her glass of Diet Coke.

"Heard from Alex lately?" she asked casually.

He looked at her. "You're amazing. As a matter of fact I did hear from him this morning. He's in Bora Bora with...that man."

"You mean the Smoking Man? Your father? They're still together?"

"I expect them to be together for a good long time, Scully. That man's got Alex by the short hairs."

"Well, that's too bad!" she said, leaning back in her chair. "Are they still gonna be living in the Soquel house when they get back?"

He shook his head, sipped his wine. "They're gonna be living in some place called Portola Valley. He said it's really pretty, that he can have his horses there. You know how he is about those horses!"

She nodded. "Yes. I hate to say this, Mulder, but he's got a decent lifestyle, you know?"

"Well, he's the world's most fortunate slave. But he's still a slave."

"Here's your lunch, Mulder. Looks good! Mmm -- may I have just a taste?"

"OK, just a taste, Scully."

She took his salad fork and tasted the osso bucco. "Oh God that's good!"

"Want me to order one for you?"

"Yeah," she said recklessly. "Why not?"

Mulder motioned to the waiter, who came over and took Scully's order.

"Did you see the way that guy looked at you?" Scully asked mischievously.

"What, oh him?" Mulder asked. "Not my type. I like 'em tall, dark and handsome!"

Scully laughed. "What a perfect response! Um, Mulder, do you ever think of dating?"

"I believe in it! Especially for dairy products!"

"Mulder," she said, trying not to laugh, "you know what I mean!"

He forked veal, chewed and swallowed. "Miz Scarlett, my heart is in the grabe."

She rolled her eyes. "You're young, you're good-looking. Come on, Mulder."

He chewed some more veal. "Seriously, Scully, I love only one man and that one is Alex Krycek, and I will wait for him forever." Till the Earth stops in its rotations. Till the fires of the sun burn to ash.

She swirled her Coke, clinking the ice. "Do you think he feels the same way about you?"

Mulder looked at his wineglass. Oops, got him in a sore spot, Scully thought.

"I believe he does, now, but I also believe that could change. What was the thing that Sharon said, about prolonged intimate contact with that man disrupting Alex's energy? I believe that could be. And I think I know how that disruption might manifest itself. I hate to think about it, though."

She wrinkled her brow. "You're losing me, Mulder. How might the disruption manifest?"

"Well, you know," he said, taking a big swig of wine and then coughing and spluttering while Scully came around to his side of the table and performed the Heimlich maneuver on him.

"God, Mulder, you have to watch that, you know?" she said, concerned. The maitre d' approached them and asked if everything was all right; Scully assured him it was.

"What I was saying," he said, when the maitre d' left, "was that, well, that Alex would end up loving my father. He does keep him very well, you know, and he can be very nice." 

Scully snorted. "Oh, so handcuffing him to a bed and beating him are very nice things to do?"

Mulder looked reflective. "I think that these things were mostly triggered by the Old Man's intense jealousy. Of me." he forked some potato and brought it to his mouth as if in a trance.

"Yes," Scully said. "Oh look, here's mine!" She dug into it with gusto.

"You're not eating for two or anything like that, are you, Scully?" he asked, eyeing her.

She giggled. "Not to my knowledge, which is not to say that David and I haven't been trying! But I wanted to explore this thing a little bit more with you. Look, just because someone's jealous doesn't give them the right to hurt and imprison the object of their... uh...passion." 

"Oh," said Mulder, swallowing fava beans, "this guy is a narcissistic/antisocial personality with an incredible sense of entitlement. People around him don't have rights; only he has them. He wants Alex, therefore, he takes Alex and keeps him, regardless of how Alex feels."

"Well, Dr. Mulder, considering all this, how can you think Alex will ever love him?"

"Well, Dr. Scully, I know Alex. He's a survivor. His code name is 'Ratboy,' right? He gave himself the name, because he says he has to live with the rats. If his survival depends upon his loving the Old Man, you can bet he'll find a way to do it."

"Well, Mulder, we're not talking basic survival here. Alex has been living in the, pardon the expression, lap of luxury for some years now."

"Well, I think I'm speaking of emotional survival, which is a stickier proposition. If he thought he had to spend the rest of his life, or even several more years, living in close proximity with someone he hated, he'd kill himself. Remember, he tried twice," said Mulder, mopping up the last of the sauce with a piece of French bread. 

"Yes, that's true," said Scully, scarfing veal.

"Alex is really quite a sensitive, even tortured soul. He's lived in terrible conditions, he was infected by the black oil, was locked in a missile silo by the same person he's now in a relationship with, lost an arm...plus I beat up on him numerous times. None of these things really bothered him that badly, with the exception of the arm...but the emotional stuff, that really bothers him."

"Mm-hm," said Scully, draining her glass of Diet Coke. 

"Waiter!" called Mulder. "Another Diet Coke for the lady! So anyway," he said, "If Alex is suffering emotionally and can't get away, then what's the next best, sanest thing for him to do?"

"Reframe," said Scully softly, sipping her second soda.

"Exactly," said Mulder. "Another glass of house white please! Thank you!"

"Wow," Scully said. "I hope he's not actually doing that!"

"I think," said Mulder, twirling his wine glass. "I think, just maybe, he might be."

************************************************************************

Mahdib scrounged in her kitchen for lunch: it looked like it was going to be deli turkey sandwiches, although she had doubts about the turkey. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and sat down at the dinette to eat it. She glanced around at her surroundings: not palatial, but nice enough. Nice of A.D. Skinner to rent the apartment for her while she re-trained and was re-indoctrinated into the principles of the FBI.

She even got to see Mulder and Scully occasionally, chatting in the halls of the FBI building, and last week she ate lunch with them. Alex...she suffered a pang thinking about him, and had to put her sandwich down. He was off somewhere with that awful old man, the one she'd conspired to bring down. It hadn't worked; nothing worked with him. He'd even been shot and survived that. Poor Alex, she thought. All he really needed was an understanding woman to help him out of this "gay" stuff and get him started on the straight and narrow. They'd dated; she knew he was capable of being with a woman. He'd been breathtakingly handsome then, dashing; he made love like an angel. No wonder everyone wanted him, then and now, she thought moodily.

She shrugged her shoulders philosophically and went to work on her sandwich.

************************************************************************

The Consortium was back home in Virginia, meeting in a smoky room in the back of a fine restaurant.

The First Elder, holding a glass of vodka on the rocks, cleared his throat. "I've called this meeting to address an issue which is rather thorny for all of us: that is, do we seek a rapprochement with the man who used to be a member of this group?"

The Well-Manicured Man lit a cigarette. "For God's sake, man!" he exclaimed. "Why?"

"Because we need him," the First Elder said quietly. "We need his power and influence."

"How do we know he won't double-cross us like he did before?" the Second Elder asked.

"We don't!" retorted the WMM. "The man is basically dishonest!"

"Can we send an operative to check him out?" asked the Second Elder. "Have we had any news from Scimitar?"

The First Elder choked on his drink, had to be pounded on the back. "Haven't you heard?" he asked. "She's been re-recruited by the FBI. Unless we can get her as a double agent, that avenue's a dead end."

"Shall we put this to a vote?" a small elderly man asked. 

"All in favor, say Aye," said the First Elder. "Hm. Looks like the ayes carry it," he said. "All right, now we need a means to contact him."

The WMM inhaled smoke. "I've heard he's in Tahiti or Fiji or some such place, with the houseboy."

The First Elder laughed. "Meaning Alex Krycek, I suppose! Well, we can surely contact Spender by phone."

"The hotel might not even tell us if he's there, let alone put us through," said the Second Elder.

"It's worth a try, though," said the small elderly man.

"I have an alternate approach, gentlemen," said the First Elder. "That is to communicate via the Internet. It should be a simple matter to get the email address of one or the other, then we could mail them."

The WMM stubbed out his cigarette and snorted. "Try Ratboy," he said. "Bet that's Krycek's screen name. I just bet. Instant Message him. He'll relay the message to our man."

"Yes," said the First Elder. "Now there is this other matter. There is this...entity we wish to dispatch. We don't know that the aliens have returned, but can we take the risk? Do I have the permission of the group to send an operative to take care of it?" He displayed a long, lethal-looking ice pick-type weapon to the group. This is what he'll use."

Everyone nodded.

"Good," he said, sipping his drink. "Things may be looking up after all."

************************************************************************

In the morning, Krycek and the Old Man showered together. This was always an opportunity to make points with the guy by sucking him off, and Krycek never missed it. "You are so good," he would breathe, helping Krycek to his feet. Then he would soap his young lover's back and scratch the itchy places, shampoo his hair. "Your back doesn't look bad at all, considering what I did to you, Alex," he remarked. No apology, just the statement, meant to be reassuring.

"You understand why I had to, don't you?"

"Yeah," said Krycek, rinsing. To control me; to subdue me; to show me who was boss, he thought, a hot flame of anger flaring up in him. Down, down, he told himself.

"I just wanted to get your attention, Alex, and it obviously worked. You were wild and willful, the Ratboy, the assassin. I had to tame you a little. No, I didn't want to take that feral quality entirely away from you -- that's one of the things that make you so appealing."

"Think I'm tame enough yet?" asked Krycek, in his husky/breathy/sweet voice.

"That's another thing I like about you. That voice! You have the sexiest voice in Creation! Yes, you're tame enough," the man said. "We need to put conditioner in that hair, Alex, or it'll tangle."

"Do you like it long? My hair," he said, toweling off.

"Yes, for now. I think we'll have it cut when we get back to the States, though. How's the arm holding up?"

"Oh, fine, thank you! I don't know whether I could play championship tennis with it yet, but we'll see."

"You should be getting greater strength and mobility, not to mention sensation, with it as time goes by."

Krycek grinned. "Stanford University is fuckin' amazing, isn't it?"

************************************************************************

Mulder received the call at 3 PM from David White. "Mulder, I'm calling you and Scully in to see this body at the morgue."

"Yeah?" Mulder asked, crunching a sunflower seed. He was still high from all the wine, and he was occupied in throwing baskets with the hulls. Most of them missed. He stuck pencils into the linoleum, marking the seed-hull spots. Each try brought him closer to his goal, but there were now thirty pencils stuck in the floor.

"Mulder, what are you doing?"

"Um, nothing much," he said, spitting a hull. Damn, another miss.

"Mulder, it's really important that you get here stat. Scully's on her way."

"Yeah, OK," he said. "Be right there." On the way out, he grabbed his suit jacket and slung it over his shoulders. He decided to take a cab. On the way over, he had an interesting conversation with the cabbie, who believed he'd been abducted by aliens. That's all over now, Mulder thought idly, we took care of those aliens, yessiree!

He showed his badge to get into the police station and walked down a flight of stairs to the morgue. It was a dark, gloomy place and Mulder had never relished his appearances here.

"What've you got?" he asked White and Scully. Wordlessly, they showed him the corpse. He gasped and shrank back involuntarily. "No," he said, "No!" The mangled face covered with green glop -- No!

"Your basic alien bounty hunter," Scully said tightly.

Mulder's mouth worked, but no sound came out for a long moment. Then, "Oh God," he said, "It didn't take!"

Scully shook her head. "We don't know that. Perhaps the Talisman only worked against the other aliens."

"How was this one killed?"

"With a narrow, sharp implement like an ice pick, inserted at the base of the neck."

"A Plam," said Mulder.

"Plam?" asked White.

"It's a long story...it involves my mother and the Smoking Man. As do certain other long stories, I suppose," he said ironically. "Anyway, who could have done this? The last person with an implement of this type in his hands was Alex Krycek, and he's in Bora Bora. And," he added helpfully, rocking back on his heels, "I don't think he's killed anyone within the last week."

Scully rolled her eyes. "Obviously it wasn't Alex. I'll bet the Consortium is behind it!"

"The Consortium less the Smoking Man? They don't know their butts from a hole in the ground!" he said scornfully.

"Oh, do I detect filial pride?" asked Scully, covering the corpse.

"Shit!" said Mulder, kicking at an imaginary ball of fuzz on the floor.

"Dana, do you think this murder is connected to the others?"

"I don't see how. The ... uh...personage is different, the murder weapons, m.o. are different."

"That's what I thought," White said, nodding his head. "The other -- routine serial murder, not an X-File. This is the X-File."

She nodded vigorously. "I agree. Mulder, what do you think?"

"I think we'll proceed cautiously with the investigation. There are some people we don't want hearing about this. It's bad enough the Consortium knew about this alien bounty hunter. What the Consortium knows, You-Know-Who knows, or can quickly find out."

"And he's who you don't want hearing about this?"

"Well, do you? Although, you know, my dear old Dad," he said, "gazes into the emerald eyes of his beloved, and his brain turns to mush!"

Scully shook her head. "Not going there, Mulder. And no, his brain has not turned to mush. Trust me!"

"I know," he said quietly. "That was my original point. I heard from Skinner that he was snooping around the serial murders case. Wait'll he gets his hooks into this one!"

"Yeah," said White, looking at him hard. "Are you all right, Mulder?"

"You don't know," Mulder said, "the battles I fight with myself every day."

"You're tired," said Scully, "let me take you home, Mulder! I'll see you later!" she said to White. They got into Scully's car. "You're still pretty drunk, aren't you, Mulder? Did you have more to drink after you got home?"

"Oh, a couple of beers, or three or four," he said.

"Mulder, I don't want you to take this the wrong way. You were so reasonable at the restaurant, but you're not now. You know, the suicide, attempted-suicide, and alcoholism rates among gay people are very high."

"Yeah?"

"Well, yeah! Now tell me of this battle you fight with yourself every day."

He took a deep breath, looked out the side window. "Well," he said, turning towards her, "it's like this. Every day, I fight a battle, which I have won so far, obviously, against packing my little bag and driving, or flying, or whatever, to wherever this man is, and killing him. Like with my bare hands?"

She pursed her lips. "Are you serious about this, Mulder?"

"Serious as a heart attack, to use a terribly hackneyed cliche."

"Now, I'm going to ask you the same thing when you're sobered up, and if I get the same answer, you, my friend, are going to a psychiatrist."

"Oh, no. No, no. No bullshit therapy with someone who knows less than I do."

"Oh, I think so," Scully said. "As you well know, being a doctor, I could write a 5150 on you this very minute, have you hospitalized as a danger to others."

"I didn't mean it," he said sullenly. "But he's got my Alex!" and he began to cry.

"Hold on, Mulder, I'm taking you home and putting you to bed. Maybe you'll just sleep it off. If, sober, you still feel like hurting someone, we'll have to take action."

"That someone is thousands of miles away!"

"Yeah huh, but he'll be back in Skinner's office soon enough!"

She got him home, up the stairs and into bed, all the while talking to him in soothing tones while he cried like a baby. She found a framed picture of Mulder and Alex, wearing white and holding hands. "When was this taken?" she asked.

"That was at our wedding, our second one. Three weddings we've had, and I still lost him!" he wept.

"Here, Mulder, I'm putting this picture under your pillow. Now think good thoughts about Alex. You will get him back. No man knows the hour, if I may quote from the Bible."

This prompted fresh weeping. "Mulder," she said, "I'm gonna give you a sedative. I still have some stuff left over from Santa Cruz." She swabbed his arm with alcohol and expertly injected the Dalmane. "I'm gonna stay with you till you're calm, Mulder. I'll call Skinner now and get him to refer you to a psychiatrist. You need to talk to an expert. Someone other than yourself, I mean."

She picked up the phone and punched in a number. "Yes, A.D. Skinner? Sir, this is Scully, and we have a situation. Two situations. We examined a body in the morgue and discovered that it was an alien bounty hunter...I know, big horrible shock. Big-time...I don't know, it should have worked...yeah...maybe only effective against the other aliens...Yes, oh yes...Be prepared for a call or a visit from our little friend...He's in Bora 

Bora, yes, with Krycek...that's right...get Krycek back here without him? Ha!...oh, it concerns Mulder. He's cracking up...yep, yep...keeps threatening to kill the Smoking Man...Sir, why are you laughing? You'd like to...Now what kind of example are you setting?...I gave him a sedative and I'm keeping an eye on him...you could be right, OK, we'll just watch him for now. Bye," she said, clicking the "off" button.

"Mulder, you've been given a reprieve. We're just supposed to watch you for the next little while. What I've decided to do is to move in here for a few days. I'm going to go get some stuff from my apartment, so you just sit tight there for about an hour, till I get back, OK?"

"OK," he said. As soon as she was out the door, he went to his computer, dialed his online service and punched up his Buddy List. Sure enough, Ratboy was on. "Hey," he typed.

"Hey yourself."

"Whatcha up to?"

"Eating, getting tan, exploring the island, playing on the beach, collecting seashells."

"Oh are YOU having the time of your life! How do you look, Alex?"

"Better than you've ever seen me, that's for sure."

"Do you miss me?"

"Like crazy, Mulder. Like crazy. Wish you were here with me."

"Will you bring me a souvenir?"

"Mulder, I'll bring you ME, all tanned and gorgeous -- would you like that?"

"You know I would!" Mulder could feel himself getting hard.

"OK, you rascal," the man said softly behind Krycek, who would have jumped three feet in the air had not the desk stopped him. "Caught you, guilty as charged," he remarked, scrolling through the Instant Messages. Krycek fairly quivered with guilt and shame. "So, his screen name is 'Brownfox'? I'll take that under advisement! Now, what are we to do with you, Alexei?" he said. Strong fingers fastened in his collar and hauled him up. Krycek closed his eyes, waiting for the blows.

"No, I want you to look at me, Alex," the Smoking Man said. "You look at me, and tell me why you did that."

"I just...you were out and I got bored, so I just started surfing..." He was slapped, hard. 

"You're a liar, Alex, and not even a very good one." Krycek could feel blood running down his face. "Now, tell me again, tell me the truth."

"I knew Mulder's screen name and I just thought I'd look him up..." He was smacked again.

"The truth, Alex, the truth!"

"You know what the truth is! You know what the truth is! Don't make me say it, it'll just hurt you!" Krycek had an impression of burning eyes before he was struck in the jaw and blacked out. 

When he came to, he was lying on the bed with a tremendous headache, and the Smoking Man was applying ice packs to his face. "Lie still, Alex," he said gently. "These are bad bruises. Your face must hurt."

"My head hurts," said Krycek. "I've got such a headache!"

"I've got Percodan, which I will give you in a minute, when you can sit up."

"Did you hit me? Is that how I got like this? Was it over Mulder?"

"Ssh," the man said. "Try not to think."

"I have to pee."

"Let me help you up. Here, lean on me on the way to the bathroom." While he was in there, Krycek also vomited.

"You may have a concussion, Alex. Do you feel any better, now that you've thrown up?"

"Some," he said, "but I've still got this headache."

"Here, can you sit up and take these pills? They should make you feel better."

"OK," Krycek said obediently, swallowing the pills with 7-up.

"I'm calling a doctor," said the man, punching "O" on the phone. "Send a doctor over immediately!" he said.

"Just lie back, Alex, till the doctor gets here."

"OK."

The doctor proved to be a woman, middle-aged, with curly blonde hair and a no-nonsense air about her. "He's been beaten," she said flatly, after a brief examination, "and he's got a concussion. His pupils are different sizes, he's got extreme pain and vomiting. He really should be flown to Tahiti for observation in a hospital. Has he had anything for pain?"

"No," the man lied smoothly.

"Well, good. Only Tylenol or aspirin, or Motrin, no narcotics of any kind. When he goes to sleep, you'll need to wake him up every two hours and ask him these three questions: 'who are you?' 'Where are you?' and 'Who am I?' And watch him for signs of coma, or convulsions. If he does have a seizure, make sure he's comfortable and not biting his tongue, and call a doctor at once. And now, sir, if I may ask, what do you know about this boy's condition?"

"I know this," the tall man said, and passed her ten thousand-dollar bills.

She shook her head. "So. You're the one who did this to him, and now you're trying to buy me off? Well, I'll let you slide this time, but if you EVER lay a finger on him again and I hear about it, I will report you!"

He laughed. "No, you won't," he said easily, pulling out a Morley and lighting it. She scowled. 

"I will, and if you don't care about your health, you should care about his, Mr. uh.."

"The name's not important," he said, "and you won't report me, and you will mind your own business about my smoking." He towered over her, and maybe it was his height or the menacing glint in his eye, but she found herself intimidated for the first time in her life. She turned on her heel and left, and he went back to Krycek. "You poor baby," he said sympathetically.

"Will I be OK, considering I took the Percodan and wasn't supposed to have any narcotics?"

"You'll be all right. I just have to keep waking you up every two hours, as the doctor said. I'll be right here If you need anything at all just ask, darling."

"Thanks," Krycek said gratefully and closed his eyes.

************************************************************************

Mulder, fiddling with his computer, couldn't figure out why "Ratboy" showed as being offline. Unless...unless! Oh, he hated to think about it! He picked up his phone and collected numbers of every hotel on Bora Bora, but not before Scully returned, laden down with bags.

"What're you doing, Mulder? Those are exotic-sounding names. Tahitian names, maybe?" she asked.

"Nothing. I'm doing nothing," he said flatly.

"Yeah huh," she said. "OK, I've brought all the food from my fridge and cupboards, figuring that you wouldn't have any, also a few pots and pans and stuff. And my clothes and things like that," she said, lugging the bags and boxes in.

"You learned to cook in the last two months?" he asked with interest.

"Ha ha, very funny! I can fry eggs and make salads, and I can certainly open cans," she said with dignity. She lugged some stuff into the kitchen. "Mulder! When was the last time you cleaned this kitchen?"

"Um, I don't know," he said. 

"I'll bet that's because you've NEVER cleaned it!"

"Uh-huh," he said pleasantly. He waited till she was employed banging pots and pans around before dialing the first number, the Hotel Marara. Then he tried the second, the Hotel Revatua. On the fifth try, the Hotel Meridien, he hit pay dirt. "C.G.B. Spender, please," he said authoritatively, and was put through.

"Yes," came the voice at the other end of the line, half a world away.

"Alex Krycek, please," said Mulder flatly.

"Why, Fox!" there was the click of a lighter. "Would that be 'Brownfox', as in 'quick'? Would that be 'Fox' as in 'sly as a'?"

"Don't play games with me, old man. Just put Krycek on."

"I'm afraid he is indisposed at the moment. He's had an accident, and he's sleeping peacefully. I hate to wake him."

"Oh, he's had an accident at the end of your fist?"

"I don't like the way this conversation is going! Really, Fox, your persistence rivals that of the IRS!"

"Who're you talking to?" asked Scully suddenly, from nearby. "Let me have the phone! Who is this?" she asked.

"Who is this?"

"Oh, it's you!" she cried. "I should have known! Mulder!" she whispered in a furious aside, "What are you DOING! Look, you," she directed at the phone, "I just thought you should know that you're the root cause of most of the misery around here! I hope you step on a rockfish or get eaten by a shark or something!" and she banged the phone down.

Mulder looked at her for a moment, then his lips began to twitch and he finally burst out laughing. "Hell hath no fury," he said, "like a pissed-off redhead!"

"Mulder, it's so great to see you laughing!" she said, and hugged him.

************************************************************************

Krycek stirred in the bed. "Water," he said groggily, and the CSM brought it to him. "Thanks," he said, drinking most of it. He tried to sit up, but the man pushed him gently back down. "You need to rest, Alexei," he said.

"I gotta pee," Krycek said. 

"Can you make it to the bathroom?"

"I think so," he said. "Help me up?"

When he lay back down, he motioned to the bed. "Lie down with me," he said.

The man shook his head. "I have to wake you up every two hours, Alex, and I can't do that if I'm asleep."

"Lie down with me," Krycek said insistently. "Hold me. Please." The man looked at him, and for a moment, a wee moment, his hard old heart was wrung by the goodness and gentleness of the boy, who didn't blame, who didn't threaten to kill him, but merely asked that he be held.

"All right," he said, and got into bed fully clothed.

"Now hold me," the young man said, and the man embraced Krycek and drew him close. "Take your shirt off," Krycek said. "Skin to skin." The older man happily obliged.

The problem was, between the cutaneous contact and the sexy little noises Krycek made, the older man quickly had a raging erection. "I feel that," Krycek said, opening one eye. "Feel!" he commanded, guiding the other man's hand between his legs. He, too, was hard. "Fuck me," he said, pulling his shorts down.

"Are you OK enough, Alex?"

"I'll be more OK if you fuck me. Here," he rolled over on his stomach. "Come on! Like before Easter, OK?"

From the first thrust, Krycek gasped and kept on gasping and moaning till he came, arching his back and yelling, shooting all over the bed. The older man closed his eyes and shook violently in the hardest orgasm of his life. Afterwards, he lit a cigarette. "Give me a drag," said Krycek. 

"No. It's a nasty habit which is impossible to break," he said.

"Aw, you're no fun!"

"Alex, being with you...you make me believe in the existence of God."

"I guess that's saying a lot!" Krycek chuckled. "My headache's gone!" he said brightly. "How do I look?" He stood up on the bed to get a look at himself in the mirror, and he whistled. "You hit me, didn't you! Why'd you do that?" he asked, puzzled.

The boy genuinely did not know. 

"It had something to do with Mulder, didn't it?" he asked, inspecting his face ruefully. "You know, Mulder used to punch me out every so often. Did you know that? In the bad old days. And Skinner! Someone's always hitting me, I guess," he said softly.

"Look, Alex. I'm sorry, I am really, really sorry for what I did."

Krycek looked at him, riveted to the spot. "You apologized! You apologized! I can't fuckin' believe it! Six years I've known you, and I've never known you to apologize!" He grinned. "Apology accepted!"

"I also apologize for locking you in the missile silo. I'm very sorry I did that."

"Oho! So it was you! I've thought so, all these years!"

"And I apologize for all the times I've beaten you. That must sound pretty lame, in view of all your suffering, but it's the best I can do, for now."

Krycek sat down on the bed. "Here," he said, and kissed the Old Man. "It's OK, you're forgiven."

"Alex, I don't deserve you."

"Aw, sure you do!"

"You deserve someone like Fox Mulder, someone your own age...why am I taking you away from him?"

Krycek looked down at his hands.

"I'm taking you away from him because I love you, of course, and I selfishly want you all to myself."

Krycek was speechless. "Are you feeling all right?" he ventured at last. "Should I call a doctor?"

"Why?"

"Because I've never known you to be anything but mean, cruel, unkind, callous, heartless, hard-hearted, violent, selfish--"

"Hey hey!" the man said. "You can stop anytime, Alex!"

"Well, look," said Krycek, looking him in the eye, "You're a brilliant man, educated, erudite, but these aren't the qualities that people know you for, are they? Now that you're all sweetness and light, may I please email, imail or call Mulder?"

The man's face darkened. "I can't let you do that, Alex, and don't ask me again!"

************************************************************************

  
Archived: April 22, 2001 


End file.
